The Dentist
by shatterthoughts
Summary: Barry's afraid of the dentist. This leads to some problems. (pre-flash/kid fic)
1. Twelve

**Hey so this came from something i wrote in my other story Flash Fear. It's not the same thing, and the two universes or whatever aren't connected, was just rereading some of my earlier chapters and this came to mind. So WARNING panic attacks and stuff - anyway here you go!**

For the most part, Barry was a fantastic kid. So much more than anyone had a right to expect from him after what he'd gone through. But he was bright, funny, caring. Joe had worried at first, but now he wouldn't change it for the world.

But every once in a while, Barry could be… challenging.

"I'm not going."

"Barry –"

"You can't make me."

"Barry it's –"

"No."

"Barry Allen, you get down right this minute," Joe snapped.

"No."

Joe sighed, rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes. "Barry, this isn't up for discussion," Joe said.

"You're right. It's not. Because I'm not going."

Barry was sitting in a tree. He was sitting in a very large tree, about twenty feet above Joe, whose branches were thin and which Joe had told Barry on numerous occasions not to climb because they weren't thick enough to ensure that they wouldn't break. And Barry, being the braniac he was, knew that of course if he climbed the tree, Joe could not follow him up, because Barry at twelve weighed a hell of a lot less than Joe did.

"Barry, you have to go to the dentist."

"I'm not going."

"Barry –"

"_I'm not going_."

"Your teeth will all fall out, Barry," Joe snapped again.

"Fine."

"You leave that cavity in there and soon you'll be getting splitting headaches all day – no school, no friends – sitting in pain – and then you'll have to get the thing pulled out instead."

"I'm not going," he said again, but this time his voice was shakier, and Joe wondered if he had just helped or made the fear worse.

"Listen, Barry, if you come down we can talk about this," Joe said.

"I don't want to talk."

"You can tell me what you need me to do," Joe said, "I can come in with you – hold your hand, read to you, anything – just please come down, son."

"I'm not your son."

Joe pinched the bridge of his nose. Now this again.

"Barry I know –"

"I'm not going."

Barry was afraid of the dentist. Henry Allen had always taken him. Now Henry Allen was in jail. The first time Joe had brought Barry to the dentist had ended in disaster, and he had only managed to make it there the last two times by telling him they were going somewhere else and then surprising him. But now he had a cavity, and Barry had stood right next to him while he set the date for the appointment.

"Iris could come," Joe said, "if you wanted her to."

"Not going."

"I'll take you out for ice cream afterwards," Joe tried, desperate now. "Or the bookstore. You can get whatever you want."

"No."

"Barry, please come down."

"NO."

Barry stayed in the tree for three hours. Barry stayed in the tree until it got dark and he was sure, sure that he had missed the appointment time by enough that they couldn't possibly go. And then he climbed down.

Joe was waiting for him. He was leaning against the house, at the back door when Barry finally got down. He had given up at about an hour and a half in. He had tried everything. Threats, negotiations, guilt trip – anything. But the kid wouldn't come down. Joe waited until Barry was standing in front of him. Joe was blocking the door.

Barry looked down. "I'm sorry, Joe."

"I don't really think you are," Joe said.

Barry thought. "I'm not sorry I climbed the tree. I'm not sorry I missed the appointment. I'm sorry I made you upset."

And then Joe's hand was on his forehead again, because damn, how was he supposed to be mad at that?

"Get inside," he said, opening the door for him. Barry shuffled in.

Iris looked up when he came inside. They made eye contact, but she didn't say anything, just looked between Barry and her father.

"Upstairs," Joe said, and Barry went. "We'll be having a conversation about this later," he said. When Barry was gone he sank into the chair opposite Iris.

"He was crying last night," Iris said.

"I know, baby."

"He's really scared, Dad."

"He has to get the cavity filled, Iris."

"I know," Iris said, "he's just really scared." She went back to doing her homework.

Joe sighed, called the dentist office and made a new appointment. They had an opening in a few days, and Joe thanked them for being so understanding. Then he went up to Barry's room.

The door was half closed and Joe pushed it open slowly before walking inside. Barry was sitting on his bed, reading a book.

Joe waited, but Barry didn't look up. Just when he was about to open his mouth Barry spoke.

"My phone's on the desk."

Joe looked over. It was carefully placed in the middle, next to the school books and papers. Joe sighed.

"That's not really gonna cut it, Bar."

"I won't watch TV," he said, still without looking up from the book. "No computer except for school."

Joe sighed. He sat down on the edge of Barry's bed. "That's not what I meant, Barry. We need to talk about this."

Barry curled his legs in, drew his knees closer to his chest.

"You have to get the cavity filled, Bar," Joe said carefully, "I know that's really scary for you, but it has to be done."

"My comics are in the box over there," Barry said, his voice a little higher than before, "I'll put them in your room."

"Barry, you are in trouble, but we're not talking about that now."

"You can take away my books," Barry said, finally looking up, and the fear there made Joe want to throw up. "I won't go anywhere but school. I'll call Tyler and tell him I can't come over this weekend. I'll skip science club for a month."

"Barry," Joe said, sighing.

"Please," Barry said, and now he was holding out the book he had been reading, trying to give it to him. When he wouldn't take it he just put it down next to Joe's leg, giving it a final little push, and then curled up tighter, hugging his knees against his chest.

"Barry this isn't something that a few punishments can fix."

"Please," Barry said again.

"You have to get the cavity filled, Barry," Joe said again, firmly. Barry's eyes welled up with tears and then he was blinking furiously.

"No, I don't," he said, looking down.

"Barry –"

"I read – I read that they didn't – they – they didn't have dentists for centuries and they were _fine._"

"And by the time people were forty all their teeth had fallen out," Joe said.

"I'll get dentures."

"They pulled them out," Joe reminded him, "they had to pull the teeth out because they would cause them so much pain."

"Well – well I'll – I'll just deal with it."

"Barry –"

"I'm not going!"

And then Barry's face was pressed to his knees and he was shaking and Joe was sure he was crying and Joe sighed again before moving to sit parallel to Barry, up against the headboard, drawing him towards him.

Barry pulled away. "No," he said, his voice angry and loud, but muffled. "I'm not going. I'm not going. You can't make me."

Joe just rubbed his back. "Barry, it's OK."

"Imnogoing imnogoing imnogoing."

"Shh."

Barry sniffed and was quiet for a minute, and then he pulled away again, turning from him.

"Barry –"

"You can't make me," he said, and his voice was a little clearer, but there was still that hysterical, panicked edge to it. "I won't leave the car. I'll sit in the car and I won't get out and if you try and make me I'll scream – I'll scream and kick and I'll – I'll run or – or –"

"Barry, it doesn't matter what you do. You still have to go. It's your health, kiddo. You can scream and yell and kick and run but I'm still gonna keep bringing you back."

"No," Barry said, yelled. "No, you can't – I can't – I can't go."

"It's gonna be alright, Bar."

"No it's not," he said, and his voice broke in a sob. "It's not it's not it's gonna hurt and they're gonna stick me with needles and they're gonna drill into my skull and I'm gonna scream and cry and they still won't stop and they'll stick those things in my mouth that I can't see and I can't I can't I won't don't make me go please don't make me go I can't." And he was sobbing again, hysterically, his whole body shaking.

"No, Barry," Joe said, pulling him in again, and Barry didn't pull away this time, turned his head into his chest and kept crying, "it's not going to be like that, Barry."

"Yes it will. It always is."

"It wasn't like that when we went last time, was it? You remember, we had that very nice woman, and she told you everything she was going to do before she did it, and when you asked her to stop, when you got scared, she did, and she left for a few minutes?"

"That's different," he said, "it was a cleaning. They're gonna drill into me this time."

"It's not different, Bar," Joe said, "It's gonna take a little longer, and you are going to need Novocain, but you can still tell them to stop if you get scared, and if anything hurts all you have to do is raise your arm, and they'll stop right away."

Barry had stopped crying, or at least he had stopped hysterically crying. Now he was just grabbing onto Joe's shirt, curled up against his side.

"You don't know that," he said.

"Oh yes I do," Joe said, "because if they don't I'll grab the thing right out of their hands."

Barry sniffed, almost laughed, but then his face screwed up again.

"What if I panic," he said, all in a whisper.

"Then we'll stop for a minute and start again when you're calm."

"No, Joe, what if I _panic_."

_Oh._ "If you have a panic attack?" Joe asked.

Barry nodded.

Joe took in a breath, but kept his voice calm. "Then we'll have them stop for a minute, and I'll stay right next to you and remind you to breathe, and I'll make them all leave the room if you need it, and we'll start again when you've calmed down."

"But what if I _don't_ calm down."

"You will," Joe said firmly, "and if you're still scared, you can squeeze my hand, and shut your eyes really tight, and it'll be done soon, and then I'll take you out to the book store or the video game store or wherever you want to go."

Barry was quiet. "Even though I hid in the tree?" he asked weakly.

Joe sighed. "Even though you hid in the tree."

"I'm sorry."

"I know, Bar."

"I'm really scared."

"It's going to be OK."

"I don't wanna go."

"I know you don't, Bar, but you have to."

"I don't want Novocain."

"They numb you up with this sticky jelly stuff first," Joe said, "so you barely feel it when the needle goes through. Just a little pinch."

"Tyler said he could feel the whole thing."

"Well Tyler's just trying to scare you."

"No, he was really upset. He said it hurt worse than the doctor's."

"Sometimes they don't do a good job numbing you first. You have a really good dentist, Bar. That won't happen to you."

"He said it hurts when they do the drilling too, that they say it's just pressure but you can feel the whole thing."

"Barry," Joe said, "if anything hurts during the procedure, then you raise your arm, and they'll stop and you can tell them, and they'll numb you up some more until it doesn't hurt."

"But then I'll have to get _more_ Novocain."

"It's just a pinch, Bar."

"It's still going to hurt."

"Just a little though. You can squeeze my hand. It'll only take a second. You do worse at the doctor's all the time, and you do really well with that."

"It's different."

"They're both shots."

"But this is in my _mouth_."

"It's still the same thing."

"I don't want it though."

"I know, Barry."

"I'm gonna panic."

"You're not going to panic, Bar."

"When did you reschedule it for?"

Joe paused. "Are you sure you want to know, Bar."

"Yes."

"I don't want you to keep worrying about it."

"I'll keep worrying about it either way."

"I know, but I don't want you to work yourself all up the night before."

"I need to know," Barry said, and his face looked so strained that Joe sighed again and told him.

"It's in a few days."

"Which day?"

"Friday."

"When?"

"Eight thirty."

"In the morning?"

"Yes."

"Does it have to be in the morning?"

"It'll be better that way, you'll have less time to worry about it."

"I don't want to go in the morning."

"It was the only time open, Barry."

"Can't we wait a couple weeks?"

"It has to get done, Barry."

"I – I know, but – but can't we just wait a little bit."

"Afraid not, Bar."

"But I – it's – that's too soon, please."

"It was supposed to be today."

"I know but I – I can't – it's too soon, please, Joe, I don't want to, just a little bit, just a couple weeks, I promise, I'll be good then, I'll go."

"We're going to get it done Friday, kiddo," Joe said gently, still with one arm around his shoulders. "It's going to be OK."

Barry was tying himself up in knots, Joe could tell, his face scrunched up and fear swarming in his eyes. He was pulling at the sleeves of his own shirt now, making a low sound of fear in his throat.

"Hey," Joe said, "it's going to be OK. You're going to go and when you get back you'll wonder why you were ever so scared of going."

"Can't I just brush my teeth a lot more?" Barry asked. "What if I brushed them four times a day?"

"That won't get rid of a cavity, Barry."

Barry's face crumpled. "Why does it have to be Friday?"

"Because that's when there was an opening," Joe said, "but when I talked to the receptionist, she said we could go in tomorrow and they'd show you everything that was going to happen." Joe looked at Barry for a reaction. He was getting pale again. "Not to do anything – but just to walk in and see what would happen."

Barry shook his head fast. "No."

"Why not?"

"I – I don't want to."

"You don't have to do anything," Joe said, "you don't have to even open your mouth if you don't want to. No sitting in chairs, no opening your mouth – they'll just show you the tools and explain what they'll be doing."

Barry shook his head. "I don't want to go there."

"I know it makes you nervous, Bar," Joe said, "but I think it would really help. You don't have to do anything you don't want to if we go. They're just going to talk to us."

Barry went quiet. "When tomorrow?"

"After you get home from school."

Barry stared at his hands. "If I get scared will you bring me home?"

"I want you to at least go in there," Joe said, "so no chickening out while we're still in the waiting room, but after that, of course. If you get too scared, we'll leave right away."

Barry nodded slowly. "OK," he said quietly.

"And when I talked to her – when I talked to her the first time actually – I scheduled you for nitrous oxide."

"What's that," Barry said, his forehead already creasing again.

"Laughing gas," Joe said, "It's this little mask they put over your nose, and hook up to a machine. You just breathe it in, and it helps you relax. You'll probably still be a little nervous, maybe a little scared, but it should calm you down some."

"What's the mask like?" Barry asked.

"You'll see it tomorrow," Joe said, "But it's just this little thing. It's not uncomfortable or scary or weird – just something they put over your nose that you breathe through."

"OK," he said.

LLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Joe found Barry in his room. He was sitting on the bed, wringing his hands over and over again, already starting to shake, gripping tightly to a single book and an mp3 player, a pair of headphones wrapped around it.

"Ready to go, Bar?" Joe asked.

Barry looked sharply up, eyes wide. He shook his head, the nods coming in little jerks and then faster and faster, tears in the corners of his eyes and his lip was turning down.

"Hey," Joe said, "it's alright. Remember – they're going to give you some nice stuff to help you relax, and then it'll be over real quick."

"No," Barry said, "Joe I don't want to go. I – I don't." A tear slipped over. "I-I w-want my dad." Barry hugged his arms in close and then the tears fell over. "I don't want to go – I want my d-dad I want my dad I don't want to go, Joe. It's going to hurt and I'll panic and I'm scared and I can't go by myself I'm scared I don't want to I'll panic I'll cry and they won't stop and it won't relax me enough it won't and I want to stay here – I want to stay home, Joe – I want to stay here, please – please let me – please let me stay I don't want to go – I want to go home." And now he was really crying and Joe sighed and sat next to him, put an arm around his shoulder, let him lean into his side.

"It's OK, Bar," Joe said softly, "Everything's going to be alright." Barry kept crying, gripping him. "I know you miss your Dad – but how about after we get it done you can go see him, huh? I'll take you right afterwards, and you can tell him how brave you were, how you did such a good job, and then we'll go for icecream, how does that sound?"

Barry shook his head. "No, no I don't want to go, please, I don't want to."

"Hey," Joe said, "I'll be there the whole time with you – and we'll go in like that nice assistant showed us, and she'll put the mask on and you'll get real relaxed nice and easy, OK, Bar? And you can squeeze my hand while they do the Novocain, and after that it's all easy. You won't feel a thing, and you'll be nice and relaxed. It's going to be just fine, remember? She showed you everything that was going to happen, and none of it is too scary. You just have to be really brave for me for a little bit while they do the Novocain, and then you're all set."

"No," Barry said, "I can't – I'm not – I'm scared."

"It's OK to be scared," Joe said, "you can still be brave – that's what being brave is – going even though you're scared."

"I don't want to be brave," Barry said, "I want to stay home."

"I know you do, son, but I need you to be really brave anyway. You can do it. I know you can. Why don't we go get in the car?"

Barry shook his head, started to cry harder. He pushed his forehead against his knees, arms wrapped around them. "No, no I can't, Joe, I can't do it. Don't make me."

"It's gonna be all OK, Bar," Joe said, rubbing his back. "You're going to be just fine."

"No," he said, "no I won't, I'll freak out – I'll panic and it's gonna hurt and I won't be – I won't."

"Barry, look at me," Joe said, taking his shoulder in his hand. When Barry finally met his gaze, eyes red, he continued. "I promise you," he said, "that you are going to be fine. I'll be right there with you the whole time, and I won't let anything happen to you, OK? I'm not going to let them hurt you, and I won't let you panic, OK? Can you trust me, Barry? I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Barry sniffed and nodded, but he still shook. He wiped a hand across his face and Joe reached into his pocket and took out a tissue, which he handed over.

"Do you think you can get in the car now for me, Barry?" Joe asked.

Barry started trembling again.

"You're safe," Joe said again, "nothing's going to happen to you. We'll just go in the car, and we'll sit in the waiting room for a while, and even once you're in the chair I won't let them start until you're ready, OK? So we can go now, Barry. They won't start until you're ready, either way."

Barry's mouth tightened, but he moved off the bed, shuffled out into the hall, head down. He followed Joe down the steps. Iris was sitting on the couch at the bottom. She turned around to see them and Barry hung his head low.

"I'll see you in a little bit, Barry," Iris said, smiling wide, "we can play basketball afterwards, if you want." She offered up the game, hoping to get a smile, but Barry just ducked behind Joe, grabbing a coat. He mumbled something she didn't hear. "Make sure you make Dad come pick me up if you end up getting ice cream," she added.

"Iris –" Joe said, exasperated, but Barry looked up and she did get a little smile from him this time.

"No promises," he said.

"You better at least bring me back some," she shouted as they went out the door. They got into the car.

The drive there was tense. Joe kept looking over at Barry, and he couldn't help but adopt some of his nervousness. The whole thing had been weighing on his shoulders for a month now, knowing how it was going to affect Barry, and now the kid was sitting beside him, absolutely silent, staring straight ahead.

When they got there, Joe had a split second of panic that Barry really wasn't going to get out of the car. He froze in the seat when Joe started to get out. Joe paused halfway out the door, looked back in.

"Barry?"

Barry nodded, sucked in a shaky breath, and Joe was back in the car.

"Hey," he said, "no panicking. Not allowed, you hear me. Take a deep breath, Barry."

Barry took in a deep breath, and Joe put a hand on his back, letting him breathe for a minute, and then Barry clenched his teeth and grabbed the door handle, and they left the car and walked in.

Once they were there, it was a different story. Barry was frozen in the chair, absolutely still, and rigid. When they called him in he shot a frantic look at Joe, but Joe just put a hand on his shoulder and led him into the room, practically pushing him the whole way, Barry's feet dragging on the ground. By the time they got in there he was already hyperventilating, his heart thudding along way too fast. When the assistant told him to hop onto the chair his eyes went wide and he shook his head, fast, shot a panicked look at Joe, and then his eyes darted towards the door, like he was going to bolt.

"Hey," Joe said, waiting until he got Barry's eyes. "You're OK," he said, "You're just going to sit down on the chair – they're not starting anything yet. You can do it, Bar."

Barry's mouth screwed up and he looked at the chair, looked at Joe again, shook his head furiously. He was clenching his hands around his book now, rubbing the palms on his jeans intermittently. He didn't say anything, felt like his throat had closed up.

"Barry," Joe said gently, "it's alright. You're safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, remember? It's just a chair. It won't bite."

Barry shook his head. A nervous sound came up his throat, like a hum. He took a couple steps back, looked between Joe and the assistant like a cornered animal.

"What if I promise not to do anything for five minutes, hun," the assistant said, crouching down to his level. "You just sit up there while I do some paperwork."

Barry tapped his fingers together. He looked at Joe again.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Joe said, "you just sit up there, Barry. It's the same as the waiting room."

Barry cautiously came back, hesitated, and then climbed onto the chair. He looked desperately at Joe for reassurance, gripping his hands tightly around the book he had brought.

"That's it," Joe said approvingly, dragging over the chair in the corner so he was closer. "Why don't you take out your mp3 player, and read your book while you wait?"

Barry hesitated again, and then took the mp3 player out of his pocket, put the headphones in his ears. He opened the book, his whole body tense but concentrating on the words to distract himself. He had to concentrate in order to focus on it at all.

The assistant had said five minutes, but she gave him more like ten, before she wheeled over the nitrous oxide and Barry looked up suddenly. He closed the book anxiously, pulled out the headphones.

"This is just the laughing gas," she said. "I'm going to lean you back now, sweetheart, but you can keep the music in if you'd like. OK – just leaning you back, now." The chair started to tilt and Barry grabbed at Joe's hand, kept his head angled upwards, the strain making him shake.

"Just lean back there, Barry," Joe said, "the dentist still isn't even here yet. You can relax."

Barry slowly leaned back again. The assistant came over with the mask she had shown him the other day.

"This is just the laughing gas," she said, "it's going to make you nice and relaxed, alright, Barry? It doesn't hurt, just a mask." She put it over her face to demonstrate, and then reached to put it on, but Barry squirmed backwards, eyes going wide.

"It's just a mask, Barry," Joe said, still holding his hand. "Why don't you put the music back in, huh? And you're just going to lie there and breathe for a few minutes. Nothing scary, I promise. The laughing gas is going to make you feel better."

Barry didn't look like he believed him, but he trembled and put the headphones back in, clenched Joe's fingers with one hand, the other wrapped to a fist around the edge of his shirt. He held still while the assistant fitted the mask on, adjusted it, tense the whole time.

"Just breathe normally, Barry," she said, "good deep breaths."

Barry tried, but they were coming too fast and he was trembling again.

"You're doing great, Bar," Joe said, "now just relax, we're going to wait a few more minutes."

Barry laid back, tried to do as they said. The music was playing softly, just enough to help him relax, but not enough that he couldn't hear when they talked to him. At first he just felt terrified, kept thinking about what they were going to do next, about the drilling and the needles, but after a couple minutes he started to feel funny. His fingers and toes were getting tingly, and then they started to feel kind of numb, and the tingly feeling extended out up his arms and legs. He didn't like it, and it felt weird, but then his body started to relax too. He was still scared, and he was still holding on tightly to Joe's hand, but he wasn't as tense, wasn't breathing as fast. Things started to get a little floaty, sort of disconnected, but Barry wasn't caring as much as he had before.

That's when the dentist came in. Barry shot a look over at Joe, made a whine in his throat. The dentist said something to him and Barry started to tremble again, just a little bit, but as his breathing kicked up and he hyperventilated, he inhaled more of the gas and then he was relaxing again, the edge of the panic ebbing away, still scared, but not the same terror-stricken panic as before.

"Alright, Barry, we're going to get started," the dentist said. Barry stared up with wide eyes.

"Open your mouth wide for me, Barry," he said.

Barry looked over at Joe. "Do what he says," Joe said, nodding.

Barry tentatively opened his mouth. He felt the dentist wipe something on the inside of his mouth, his gums, and then immediately got a tingling sensation there too. When he closed his mouth again he screwed up his face at the taste.

"Yeah, doesn't taste so great," the dentist said, "but it's going to numb you all up so you won't feel the Novocain."

At the mention of Novocain Barry tensed again, but as the dentist waited for the topical anesthetic to work he started to settle back down again. His mouth was numb on that side and he began to relax.

"Alright, Barry, we're going to get started now," the dentist said. Barry saw him come over with a tray and he peered upwards, got a look at the needle before the dentist moved it, and once again Barry was looking at Joe, eyes pleading, heartbeat speeding up.

"It's OK," Joe said, "remember, it's only a second, and you're already numb there, OK?"

Barry whimpered and tried to squirm away from the dentist, his eyes going back and forth between him and Joe.

"You'll only feel a little pinch, Barry, I promise," he said. "Can you open your mouth for me?"

Barry shook his head. No, no, he couldn't do this. He looked at Joe, pleading again, begging. He couldn't – he couldn't do this. He was sucking in deep breaths again, and even though the laughing gas was helping, it wasn't enough. He was still scared, and he would do anything to get off that chair.

"It'll be over in a second, Barry, I promise," Joe said as gently as he could. "You need to open your mouth for the nice dentist, and you just close your eyes and squeeze down on my hand, alright? And then when you open them again it'll be done."

Barry shook his head. He was scared, he was scared, he wanted a break, he wanted a break now, wanted to get the mask off, to go sit with Joe, make Joe hold him and hug him because he was scared and he wanted to go home and Joe was safe and this was not.

Barry raised his arm, looking at Joe, but Joe shook his head. "You haven't started yet, Barry. You can't have a break before you even start."

Tears welled up in Barry's eyes and he shrunk inwards, moved his knees up, shied away from the dentist's hands.

"Barry," Joe said, still gently, "it's OK. It's only going to take a second. How about we make a deal, huh? You close your eyes and let the dentist give you the Novocain, and afterwards you can have a break, OK? How does that sound?"

Barry trembled, and a tear ran down his face. Joe brushed it away, and Barry opened his mouth, clenched both his hands, his eyes shut, his body trembling, and then he felt a pinch of pain and he let out a pained, scared noise, more tears leaking from his eyes, and then it was over and he felt a hand on his forehead, another on his arm, and the dentist was telling him what a good job he had done, and that it was all over, and he would wait a few minutes before starting the filling.

Barry turned towards Joe, not caring when it moved the mask. He went to take it off, but Joe stopped him.

"It helps you relax, remember," he said gently, "so let's keep it on, OK, Bar?" Barry nodded, but still buried his face in Joe's arm, and Joe reached around at an awkward angle to rub his back. Barry shook and cried and tried to stop, but couldn't. He was ashamed and embarrassed, but mostly he was scared and tired.

After a few minutes Joe pulled away and Barry grabbed reflexively at him, knowing what it meant.

"We're gonna let the dentist start now, OK, Barry?" he said, gently pushing him back into the chair.

"No," Barry said, pleading, looking from Joe to the dentist and trembling.

Joe gently pushed down on his chest, until he was leaning back, and readjusted the mask of the laughing gas. Barry clenched his hands and sniffed loudly, wiped the back of his hand across his face. Joe took his hand again and then the dentist was back and Barry shut his eyes but didn't open his mouth.

"Barry, it's time to start, son," Joe said, a little firmer.

"No," Barry said, shaking, eyes still squeezed shut, "no, please."

"It's alright, Barry," Joe said gently, "but we need to start. Open your mouth for the dentist. The hard part's all done, you just have to lean back and relax now."

"I-it's g-gonna hurt," Barry said, bringing both his hands up to his face, pulling off the mask. He wiped at his eyes and tried to stop, but couldn't. He didn't want the mask and he didn't want to be in the chair and he wanted to go home because so far it was just as bad as he thought it would be and he was scared and exhausted already and he wanted to run away but he couldn't.

"It's not going to hurt at all," the dentist said, putting one hand on his shoulder, "if you feel any pain," he said gently, "you raise your hand and tell me, and I'll give you some more Novocain, but you shouldn't feel anything at all. Just some pressure."

At that Barry started crying harder, hid his face in his hands because it was just like Tyler said and it was going to hurt and they wouldn't stop and he'd have to get more shots and he didn't want more shots and he wanted to go home because this was too much and he couldn't do it.

"Barry," Joe said, squeezing down on his hand, "it's OK. It won't hurt. I know you're scared it will, but it's not going to, OK? Come on, Bar, I know you can do it." He wiped the tears off his face and pressed the mask back over his nose. Barry pushed away, hiccupped, and Joe rubbed his shoulder. The laughing gas started working again, had gotten somewhat out of his system because he had jarred the mask around and wasn't breathing it all in.

"Open your mouth, Barry," Joe said, "it will never be over if you don't start."

Barry looked at Joe, scared, and upset, and then at the dentist, who gave him a friendly smile, and Barry screwed his eyes shut and opened his mouth.

He shook the whole time, squeezing down on Joe's hand and pushing himself up on the chair, pressing his head back into it every time he felt a harder pressure on his tooth. It was uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt. Barry kept waiting for it, kept flinching every time the discomfort rose to almost-pain, but it never crossed that line. He was numb. That didn't mean he liked the feeling of a drill pushing against his jaw.

He didn't raise his hand. He just squeezed down on Joe's and sniffed and cried out a little bit when anything surprised him. When it was finally over the dentist brought the chair back up and took the mask away, said something about what a good job he had done, and how he had been very, very brave, and Barry had nodded, and wiped at his face some more because he was sure it was all red and puffy, before walking out to the receptionist with Joe, and then leaving and getting in the car.

Barry opened the door, and got in, sat down. Then his eyes started watering, and he started trembling. Joe got in, looked over, then looked back, eyes staying this time.

"Hey," he said, reaching over to rub Barry's back, "it's all done now. No reason to get upset. You did great, Bar – it's all over."

Barry shook his head, hid it in his hands. He kept shaking.

"Bar," Joe said, his voice a little bit harder, a little more serious, "what's wrong?"

Barry shook his head again. "I w-wannna go h-home."

"OK," Joe said, still rubbing his back, "are you sure you don't want to visit your Dad first? Or go and get ice-cream – or I promised you the bookstore, didn't I? Or a new video game?"

Barry shook his head. "I want to go home."

Joe frowned. "Not even to see your dad first?"

Barry shook his head again.

"Alright, son," Joe said quietly, "we can go out tomorrow, or this weekend, when you're feeling better, alright?"

Barry nodded, head still in his hands. He was still shaking.

"Can you tell me what's wrong, Barry?" Joe asked.

Barry shook his head. "I-I d-don't feel good," he mumbled, "I wanna go home."

"OK," Joe said, but he didn't move his hand from Barry's shoulder.

LLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

When they got back to the house, Barry practically bolted up the stairs to his room. Joe heard the door shut. Iris looked up from the kitchen table, a question in her expression.

Joe shook his head. "It went fine," he said, "but Barry's not feeling great, so we came straight back."

Iris nodded, and then started up the stairs. Joe had an idea of where she was going, but just sat down on the couch and sighed. He'd let Iris have a try.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

There was a knock on the door, and Barry pulled the blankets around him tighter. He was curled into a ball, the blanket over his head so he was trapped underneath.

He heard the door open, and knew by the sound of the footsteps that it was Iris not Joe.

"Go away," he said.

"Is your tooth all better?" Iris asked, ignoring him. She grabbed the blanket and tugged, and Barry grabbed it tighter.

"Yes, now go away."

She pulled at the blanket again. "Can I see it?" she asked, "did they give you a silver one? I got silver last time – you can see it – it's all shiny."

She managed to tug the blanket away a little, and Barry's eyes peeked out, accusing.

"I don't know what color it is. I'm tired, and I want to sleep, so please go away."

"You can't be tired," she said, "it's not even two o'clock. I bet you haven't even had lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"Not even for cookies?" she asked. "I made cookies while you were gone."

"You're not supposed to use the oven when Joe's not here."

"Well I'm not going to give any cookies to him, so he doesn't need to know, does he?"

Barry stared at her, and she stared back, and then turned abruptly and scuttled out of the room, returning shortly with a Tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies.

Barry let the blanket fall a little more, and after a moment took one. Iris hopped up on the bed and sat cross-legged, and took one too.

"Did the laughing gas help?" she asked, "it's supposed to make you feel all funny. Did you get loopy – you know, like on TV when someone's on a bunch of drugs at a hospital or whatever and they act all weird?"

"No," he said, "it wasn't like that."

She started to smile. "I bet you were. I bet you said all sorts of stupid embarrassing things – I'm asking my Dad later."

"No," he said, but he was starting to smile too, "it wasn't like that – it just made me kind of relax a little – it didn't even really do much at all."

"I don't know," she said, "I think you're lying."

"I am not."

"Bet you are."

"I'm not!"

"Ok, fine," she said, "I believe you – but only 'cause you don't seem loopy at all now." Barry took another cookie, and Iris was already on her third. He was having trouble chewing, kept moving it to one side.

"It's still numb," he said, taking a bite.

"It stays like that for a while."

"Feels weird," he said, moving his tongue around.

"Make sure you don't bite it."

"Bite what?"

"You're mouth – you won't be able to feel it if you do."

"I'm not going to bite my mouth."

"Well that's what they always tell you to be careful of."

"Well they're stupid."

"They're dentists."

"I hate dentists."

"You just hate going."

"No, I hate them too."

"Our dentist is nice," Iris said, pointing, "he lets us go in the same room and it never hurts and he's funny."

"It hurt today."

"That's just because it was a cavity."

"He stuck me with a needle."

"That's just Novocain, Barry."

"Well it hurt."

"Don't be a baby."

"I'm not! It was a big needle and it burned – it really hurt!"

"It doesn't hurt that much," Iris said, waving it away with her hand, taking another bite.

"How would you know?"

"I got a cavity filled last year."

"Well that was a long time ago."

"I still _remember_."

"It's not the same."

Iris rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna get ice cream tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

"You should. Make sure Dad brings me too."

"You didn't go to the dentist."

"I still want ice cream."

"You don't deserve ice cream."

"I made you cookies you traitor!" Iris said, and promptly wacked him with a pillow.

Barry ducked and blocked it with his arms. "Hey!"

And that was how Joe walked in to a scream and found Barry lying on his back on the floor with cookies scattered around him and Iris doubled over laughing, a Tupperware container across the ground next to a now broken cup and spilled pencils and pens.

"Hi Joe," Barry said, smiling.

Joe sighed and shut the door. He'd yell at them later. He was smiling.

**Yeah, so I might write a couple more chapters of Barry throughout the years - I'll have to see - got one chapter half finished but I'm not sure - anyway review and let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions for future dentist fear type chapters or any comments in general I love to know what you think! Thanks for reading :)**


	2. Fifteen - Part 1

The next time that Barry had a problem with the dentist, a real problem, he was fifteen, and had to get a root canal, and it was not a pretty sight.

There were several stages to this one. The shock mixed with fear when the dentist told him, quickly followed by a number of questions involving the procedure, then a frantic internet search that practically lasted two days, the firm denial that he needed the root canal done, which included several attempts to call the office, convince them he was actually Joe, and have them cancel the appointment, and finally, a firm and unrelenting dread that seemed to permeate everything he did for the week leading up to the procedure. And at that point he would alternate between distinct denial that he was going at all, horrible, all-consuming fear, and anger at Joe, at the dentists, at Iris, at anyone. It was like watching someone go through the five stages of greif.

Joe knocked on Barry's door the day before the procedure, and pushed it open. Barry was facing away from him, sitting on his desk.

"Whatcha doing?" Joe asked, walking in.

"Algebra."

"Homework?"

"Yeah."

"You know you're not going to school tomorrow, right?"

Barry didn't say anything.

"Bar."

"I can go in the morning."

"You'll only be there for an hour and a half."

"I can still go."

"I thought maybe you'd want to sleep in."

"I'll go to school."

"I think it be better if you stay home, Barry."

Barry ignored him again, his shoulders visibly tightening, the scratch of pencil on paper getting harder, more pronounced.

"Did you want Iris to come?" Joe asked.

"No."

"Do you want me to go in with you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I can go in, Barry, it doesn't make you weak or childish, lots of people have someone go with them for this sort of thing."

"I'm fine on my own, Joe."

"Iris could go and I could wait outside, if that would make you more comfortable."

"It's fine."

"Barry," Joe said, taking a deep breath, "I really think it might be better if someone went with you."

Barry stopped writing, gripped hard on his pencil.

"I don't want anyone with me."

"Why not, Barry?" Joe asked, settling with his shoulder leaning against the wall.

"Because I don't."

"That's not an answer, Barry."

"I'm not twelve anymore," Barry muttered, "I don't need anyone to go with me."

"Barry –"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Joe," Barry said, his voice shaking, "I don't – it's fine. I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"OK," Joe said, sighing, "but you know where to find me, if you do want to talk."

"Mmhm," Barry said, the scratching of the pencil back.

LLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The door slammed open and Barry didn't even turn around.

"You know, I could have been naked."

Iris just scoffed, leaned down over his shoulder to look at what he was writing, still scratching out algebra formulas.

"You could knock," Barry added.

"I'm coming with you tomorrow," she said, or more accurately, proclaimed.

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"Iris –"

"I'm going, and there is nothing you can do about it, Barry Allen, so you might as well skip the twenty minutes of arguing, and just tell me why you're upset so we can get straight to talking about it."

"I don't want to talk, Iris."

Iris grabbed his chair and abruptly pulled it back, which nearly caused him to fall of the thing, and spinning it so he was forced to look at her.

"Yes you do," she said, "you want to talk and you want to tell me all about it so I can help and you can quit bottling things up until you make yourself crazy with it."

Barry looked at the floor, fiddled with his hands. "Iris –"

"No," she said, "No Iris's. Here, let me start: it's going to be OK, and you're going to be fine, and I know you're terrified but I'll be right there, and my Dad too if you want and we wouldn't let any of them hurt you, so you can quit worrying about it and relax, OK?"

"I know I don't have anything to worry about," Barry mumbled, "I just do anyway, OK?"

"I wasn't making fun of you," Iris said, "I was trying to reassure you. You get scared and then you do that thing where you start making no sense – and I know you know you make no sense, but you get scared and say it anyway – so I'm just reminding you, OK? Just reminding you that it's going to be OK and you don't have anything to be scared of."

Barry kept fiddling with his hands. "It's still going to hurt," he said.

"Root canal's don't hurt," Iris said.

Barry kept looking down. "The Novocain does."

"You know that's not that bad, Barry," Iris said, giving him a look.

"It still does though."

"That's just a little uncomfortable, though. Nothing scary."

"The whole thing is scary."

"You'll be OK, though."

"I could just not go."

"Barry."

"I could go to school."

"My dad's picking you up."

"Could sneak out."

"Barry."

"Head down to the park or something."

"Barry."

"I could just not go."

"Barry, you know that's a bad idea. It'll just get infected and you'll wind up in a lot of pain then."

"That could take years though."

"Probably much sooner, and even if it did take years, it's better to just fix it now so you don't have to deal with it."

"I could wait though," Barry said, and his voice was getting more desperate now, and he finally looked up, the fear evident in his eyes and his expression. "I could just wait a month – just a month to – to get more used to it."

"That's not going to help, Barry."

"It might," Barry mumbled, "I could – I could just wait a little bit and then – then I'd be OK." And then he put his head in his hands. "Iris, I don't want to go." And then he was shaking, and Iris could already hear his breathing going harsh, in rasping gasps.

"I know you don't want to," she said, immediately pulling him into a hug, "but it's still going to be OK."

"I c-can't," he said, "I can't, Iris, I can't do it – I _can't._"

"You can," she said, "you will. It'll be fine."

"_No_," he said, "no it _won't_ – I'll freak out and it will be awful and it'll hurt and it'll be uncomfortable and they'll drill into my head and I'll panic and they won't stop and I'll yell and I'll probably start crying because I'm scared – I'm scared and it's terrifying and I'm going to start sobbing like a baby because I can't do this, I _can't_."

"Barry," Iris said and she came over to give him another hug and Barry was glad because that way she couldn't see his lip waver or the way he was trying so hard not to cry. "It's going to be fine," she said, "you'll be fine." She was rubbing his back now, talking in a nice, soothing voice. "You'll sleep in tomorrow, and when you wake up I'll make you waffles, or whatever you want, and we'll go in and I'll go with you, OK? And it'll be fine. They'll give you a bunch of laughing gas and you'll get all relaxed and tired and say stupid things that I can make fun of you for later. You'll barely even feel the Novocain, and then after that everything will be all numb. You won't feel a thing and it won't hurt, Barry. And I'll stay with you the whole time, by Dad too if you want him to. I'll hold your hand and you can just shut your eyes and pretend you're not there, OK, Barry? It's going to be fine. You're safe. It's OK."

He shook his head, shaking. "I'm scared," he said, his voice tiny.

"I know," she said, "but it's alright. Nothing bad is going to happy, you're perfectly safe."

He shuddered again and part of him wanted to crawl into bed and hide under the blankets but Iris was still hugging him and he didn't really want to lose that either.

"Now," she said, pulling back just enough so she could look at him. "Let's go downstairs, and we can watch movies, OK? You don't have to get up early tomorrow, so we'll just watch them until you fall asleep, OK?"

Barry managed a weak smile, thankful that Iris had suggested it, because she knew he wouldn't sleep at all if he had to lie in bed thinking about it, and followed her down the stairs. His stomach was still rolling around, but he really just wanted to curl up on the couch with Iris right now, because he really, really wanted to believe her when she said he was safe and that it would be alright, but his brain was still screaming at him to get away, to run. So he went downstairs and they watched movies, his mind going numb, until he fell asleep on the couch next to her.

LLLLLLLLLLLLINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

He sat on the couch, frozen.

"Barry, it's time to go."

"No."

"Barry, it's going to be fine, but we really need to get in the car now."

"I'm not going."

"You need to have this done, Bar."

"No."

"Barry," Joe said, losing his patience.

"I'm not going," he said.

"Barry," Joe said, trying to keep his voice calm, "We're going to be late. You have to have this done, kiddo, and you know it."

Barry's mouth tightened. His face was plastered over with fear. He didn't have an excuse now, wasn't trying to make up things about how he didn't need it or how he just had to wait a month, a week – he was just terrified.

"Barry," Joe said, "it's going to be OK."

He shook his head, and then stared at the ground.

"Up," Iris said, grabbing one of his arms. She tugged at him, trying to haul him up but he stayed firmly on the couch. If he weren't so frustrated Joe would have said it was comical.

"Stop it, Iris," Barry mumbled.

"Up," she repeated, "Come on." She tried getting behind him then, pushing on his shoulders. "Let's go. In the car. Come on."

"Stop," he said again, still didn't move. He had just started growing taller than Iris, so she couldn't just push him around anymore, a fact that Joe lamented in that moment. "I'm not going," he said.

"Yes you are," Iris said. "You're going, and they'll give you laughing gas, and I'll make fun of you like I always do and then they'll get the whole thing done and over with and we'll go out for ice-cream or something. Come on."

She pushed and he stayed still and Joe sighed.

"Come on," she said again, "up. Barry. Bar. Let's go. We're gonna be late. You know I hate to be late."

"It's not your appointment."

"Don't care," Iris said, "makes me look bad."

Barry let out a huff, still didn't move.

"Barry," Joe said, trying for a firmer tone of voice, "it's time to go."

"Not going," he mumbled.  
"Barry." His voice was hard and Barry winced. His face was red and he was still looking at the floor, still looked absolutely terrified at the idea of going. He was starting to shake.

"Iris, could you go wait in the car," Joe said.

Iris's eyes went wide and Barry flinched. "Uh, sure, yeah," Iris said, and she went slowly out the door, watching her dad cross his arms in front of Barry.

"Barry," Joe said, once the door had shut, "it's time to go, son."

Barry shook his head. His face was bright red and he was gripping his arms, still staring at the floor and shaking.

"Bar," Joe said. He crouched down next to him, put one hand on his shoulder, then his knee. "It's going to be alright, Barry. It's going to be fine, but we have to get going. I promise you it will be alright, but I really need you to get in the car now."

Barry shook his head again. "I'm not going," he said, his voice tiny, wavering.

"Barry," Joe said, "look at me."

Barry shook his head, seemed to bend his neck in more, pulling his arms in around himself.

"Barry," Joe said and Barry slowly raised his head.

"It's time to get going," Joe said, "Come on. You've got your music right? You want a book?"

Barry shook his head. "Not going," he said again.

Joe sighed. "Barry."

"I'm not."

"Barry, you have to go. I know you're scared, but it's going to be OK."

"No."

"Barry," Joe said, "you need to get up now. Iris is already waiting in the car, and we're already going to be late. You can listen to music and just relax during the drive, and you know they won't start right away when we get there. Just relax, take a deep breath."

Barry shook his head and the shaking had gotten worse. "I'm not going – I can't go," he said, breathless, almost frantic.

"Barry," Joe said, "you are going. You can go. You're going to be just fine, I promise. Take some deep breaths Barry."

Barry tried, taking in one deep breath and then another. He managed to get the shaking down to just some trembling, but he was still terrified. He didn't want to go and the dread was back, sinking in his stomach and making the panic race through his blood.

"Alright, that's it, that's good," Joe said, rubbing his knee gently. "You're OK," Joe said, "alright, Barry? It's going to be OK."

Barry shook his head, but kept taking deep breaths, trying to stop the onslaught of panic, and Joe gave him a couple more minutes before starting again.

"Barry," he said, his tone low, firm, "I need you to get in the car now."

Barry shook his head immediately, was already ready to say something.

"No, Barry, it's time. You need to go now."

Barry felt his limbs go cold, his teeth setting against a cringe. Joe's tone of voice was changing and Barry didn't like it one bit.

"Barry," Joe said, the same hard tone, "you need to get up, and you need to get in the car, and you need to do it now."

"No," Barry said, clenching his hands, scared and upset because he knew Joe was going to make him and he didn't _get_ it, he didn't understand – he was _terrified_, he was absolutely terrified and he couldn't _do this_.

"Barry," Joe said, "I want you up off that couch and on your way to the car in the next thirty seconds."

"Joe," Barry said, his voice strained, "I can't – I can't."

"Yes you can," he said, "and you are going to, or I will drag you out there myself."

Barry's face paled. "I'm not going," he said, his voice just a little more panicked.

"Barry, I'm going to count to ten, and you need to be getting in the car before then."

"No."

"One."

Barry stared at the ground, ears red and he knew Joe well enough to know that he would, that he would forcibly drag him, kicking and screaming, to the car if he refused, and he felt like an animal backed into a corner and tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes. Joe made it to seven before he stood up, pushing by Joe and practically running out the door. He slammed the car door shut once he was inside, put in his headphones before Iris could even try to talk to him. He slumped down in the seat and leaned against the window, hiding his face with his hands, trembling and brushing away tears before they had the chance to fall.

Iris was sitting next to him in the back seat, and he heard her unbuckle her seatbelt and move into the middle seat instead. Normally they'd fight over the front seat but she had sat back there to be with him instead. She put one hand on his knee, but didn't say anything.

Joe came out a minute later and got in, started to drive. By the time they got there Barry had thoroughly worked himself into a fit, shaking and trembling and crying, but wiping them away before it could really be called crying.

When they got there he refused to get out of the car. He stayed absolutely still and wouldn't even look when Joe called his name. He stared straight ahead, hands clenched to fists until Joe reached across him, unbuckled his seat belt, and all but lifted him out of the car. After that he just stared at the ground, face red and walked as Joe led him forward with a hand against his back. He shook the whole time, slowed down as they got closer, and Iris touched his arm, offered a smile, but he looked at her with terrified eyes, close to tears, trembling. She took his hand when they got inside and pulled him over to the corner to two chairs while Joe went and checked him in.

"Alright," Iris said, "we're here. You're halfway done already Bar, you made it all the way here."

He knew she was trying to comfort him, but it was not working, just made him realize that he still had the whole procedure to go through and they were there, they were there and he couldn't get out now, couldn't run, couldn't hide, couldn't go to school and sneak away. He shot a terrified look at Iris, alarmed, scared.

"Whoa," she said, rubbing his arm where he was clutching the arm rest of the chair. "Relax. It's OK."

He shook his head but looked straight ahead again, at the far wall. He was utterly still, frozen, dreading when the dentist would come out and call his name. He was so scared he couldn't move, couldn't think at all.

"Barry," Iris said carefully, "do you want me to go in with you or just my dad? Or both?"

Iris, Joe, both? He didn't know. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't want Iris to see him like that, it was embarrassing, but he had already embarrassed himself pretty thoroughly and he was so scared and he didn't want to let go of her hand. But he hated it when Joe looked at him like that scared little kid again and he hated it because it made him feel like that scared little kid again and it was just humiliating but Joe was also safe and he was terrified but both of them didn't really fit in the little room and he didn't like it when it was crowded either it made him more claustrophobic, more panicked but he wanted them both and he didn't want them both but he needed someone because he didn't want, couldn't go in alone and oh God, he was dizzy, his head spinning and he couldn't breathe and his vision was –"

"Barry," Iris said, leaning around, her eyes worried, on his. She gave his hand a squeeze. "hey, it's OK. Whatever you want, it's alright. Breathe, Barry, everything is going to be OK."

Barry shook his head. "I can't, Iris, I can't breathe."

"You can breathe," she said, reassuring him, "you're just scared. It's OK."

"I don't want to do this."

"I know, but it's going to be OK."

"I want to leave," he said, and then he tensed, his eyes darting around for an escape.

"Barry," Iris said, her voice going a little harder, her grip on his hand tighter. "You can't leave. You know that. You have to get this done."

He gave her a desperate, pleading look.

"It's going to be over before you know it," she said, "and then you won't have to worry about it anymore. They're going to give you some laughing gas to calm you down, and then once the Novocain is done it'll be easy."

"No it won't," he said, "it'll hurt and I'll feel it and they'll be drilling and needles and –"

"And I'll hold your hand," she said, "and you can close your eyes so you don't see any of it, and you won't even know they're using a needle or a drill or anything because you won't feel a thing."

"I'll feel the drill," he said, "it hurts."  
"It doesn't hurt," she said calmly, "you'll feel some pressure and some vibrations. That's it."

"Barry Allen?"

Barry froze, and Iris looked up. Joe looked over his shoulder from the front desk, and then started to walk towards them. Iris looked back at Barry.

"Bar, hey – it's time to go. Come on, Bar, I know you can do it."

Barry's face was deathly pale and he was trembling all over, frozen still, shaking his head just the slightest bit, eyes staring at nothing, wide open.

Iris got up, pulled him with her. "Come on," she said, "it's going to be fine." She dragged him forward with a hand on his back until Joe reached them and took over. People were staring, subtle glances but Barry didn't notice and Iris stared them down until they looked away, faces flushed. He was gripping her hand hard now and Joe kept telling him to take deep breaths but Barry barely heard them, feet shuffling against the floor, as they followed the assistant in.

"Iris, I don't wanna do this," he said in a rush, his face going green and suddenly stopping, looking at her in terror.

"It's OK," she said, leading him forward. Joe was behind him and they were in the room, the chair was there, Barry couldn't breathe.

"No," he said, shaking his head fervently, and then he was backing up, right into Joe, "I'm going to be sick."

"Bar, take a deep breath," Joe said.

Barry shook his head. "No, I don't want to do this, I don't want to do this, let me go."

"Barry," Joe said, his voice firm.

"No," Barry said, panicking. He tried to turn around. "I'm leaving, I can't do this, I'm going home."

"Barry," Joe said, taking him by the shoulders, "You need to relax. It's OK. Let's get you in the chair and then we'll have them start the laughing gas – it'll get better once you have the nitrous oxide."

"No," he said, "No, I'm not doing this, I'm not doing this, I'm not."

"Barry," Joe said, "Let them give you the laughing gas – you won't be so afraid, you'll feel better, I promise."

"No," Barry said, "I don't want it, I want to go home."

"Barry, you can't go home," Joe said, "you have to get this done. Take a deep breath. The sooner you sit down, the sooner they can give you the nitrous oxide. You know you'll feel better once you start that."

"No," Barry said, "I won't do it, I'm not, let go of me."

"Barry," Joe said, "sit down."

"_No_."

Joe took in a deep breath. "Bar, I know you're really scared, but you need to trust me. You'll feel better in a little bit, I promise, but you have to sit down and let them give you the laughing gas."

"I don't want laughing gas," Barry said, backpedaling, looking for a way out.

"Barry, you have to get this done," Joe said.

"No I don't," he said, "I don't, I don't want it done, I'm not doing this."

"Barry," the assistant said, the one who had brought them in there, "you're going to be perfectly fine, Dr. Johnson has done dozens of root canals."

"I'm not doing it," Barry said, ignoring the assistant and trying to get around Joe.

"Sweetheart, it won't hurt at all, we'll go nice and slow for you," the assistant said again.

Barry turned around as Joe boxed him in again and looked at her. "I just can't do this," he said.

"Why don't we get started on that nitrous oxide," she said.

"_I don't want the nitrous oxide_," he said.

"It will help you calm down, honey, I promise."

"No it won't," he said, "I've had it – I still freak out, it's still – it doesn't help enough."

"But it does help some," Joe said, "I know it does, Barry, and I know you know it too. Take a deep breath."

"I don't want to do this," Barry said.

"No," Joe said, "you don't want to go through the fear that this causes you – if we get you on the nitrous oxide, the fear will go down, so let's just start with that."

"I can't do this, Joe," Barry said, turning to him, his voice cracking. There was so much fear in his expression and Joe wanted to give in, to wrap him in a hug and tell him they'd come back another time, but it wouldn't be any better another time, and he had to have this done.

"How about you sit down," Joe said, "let them get the nitrous set up, and if afterwards you're still panicking just as bad, I'll take you home. No questions, no procedure, I'll take you home."

Barry blinked at him. "You will?"

"Yes," Joe said, "if you can't do this without going into a full blown panic attack then I'm not going to force you. We'll go home and figure something out – but let them try it first, Bar."

Barry looked at the chair, his face twisting. He looked back at Joe. "You promise you'll take me home if I can't calm down?"

"Yes," Joe said.

Barry shuddered. He looked at the chair and took a step backwards.

"I'm s-scared," he said, darting a look at Iris. He shook his head. "I'm too scared."

She took his hand and pulled him forward. "You're fine," she said, "you're not too scared. You can do it, I know you can." She led him forward and Barry stopped in front of the chair and didn't move, wouldn't move. He didn't want to get on that, he didn't want the mask, he didn't want to do this.

"Barry," Iris said, her hand gripping his arm, "look at me."

Barry looked up and Iris gazed at him calmly. "Breathe," she said, "in… out." She mimed the deep breaths, and he tried to copy her, and she tugged him towards the chair, and he climbed on and sat there, frozen still, while the assistant quickly got the nitrous oxide ready.

**Review please! :)**


	3. Fifteen - Part 2

**Alright, part 2:**

The laughing gas started to kick in, and Barry started feeling floaty. Pins and needles started up in his hands and feet, and then his face, and slowly the rest of his body, a dulled, tingling sensation. His thoughts got a little foggier and his heartrate and breathing started to slow down. He was slowly relaxing, holding onto Iris's hand tightly. The assistant gave him about fifteen minutes, which was long enough for the chemicals to really kick in and for the nagging fear to simmer down.

"OK, Barry, we're going to give you the anesthetic now."

Barry sprang upwards, eyes searching for Joe, who was there in a second, a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, Bar. Just one pinch of pain and then it's done."

Barry shook his head. "You said I could go home," he said, "you said you'd take me home." He reached for the mask but Iris got there first, holding it in place and Barry shot her a betrayed, indignant look.

"You're not panicking, Bar," Iris said, "Dad said he'd take you home if you couldn't relax, but you're OK now. You don't need to go home – you're not having a panic attack anymore." Her tone was firm and stern and Barry didn't like it at all on her, for a split second felt like a little kid being scolded.

"I'm not relaxed," he said.

"You are enough," she said right back. "Lean down, Barry."

Barry scowled at her and then he saw the needle the dentist had and his eyes widened and his grip on her hand tightened.

"No, wait, I'm not ready," he said. The dentist moved out of his line of sight and he took in big gulping breaths, trembling. "I'm not ready, wait, wait, just a few more minutes."

"Breathe through your nose, Bar," Iris said, "slower – Barry, slower, that's it."

Barry breathed through his nose and he felt like he was going to cry and he was scared, but everything was fuzzy and tingly and he looked anxiously at Iris and then Joe.

Joe gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Close your eyes, Bar."

Barry shook. "No, please," he said, "I don't want the shot, please."

"It's just Novocain, honey," the dentist said, "let me give you the topical, OK, sweetheart? It's going to numb it all up so you'll barely feel the Novocain."

"Breathe through your nose," Iris reminded him, and Barry complied breathing in more of the nitrous. He was hyperventilating and as he sucked in more of the laughing gas his body relaxed of its own accord, his parasympathetic nervous system taking over and slowing everything down even though he was still scared.

"Open your mouth, Bar," Iris said.

Barry shut his eyes and opened his mouth, but he only felt a swab and then the sick taste of the topical anesthetic.

"I don't wanna do this, Iris," he said, numbly, dizzy. The words seemed to float.

"I know, Bar, hard part's almost over."

He made a scared noise in the back of his throat and then the dentist was telling him to open his mouth and Joe told him to shut his eyes and Iris was saying to breathe through his nose and Barry was scared and did none of those.

"Barry, son, you need to open your mouth now."

Barry shook his head.

"Barry, you can have a nice break afterwards if you can just be good and listen to the dentist right now, OK? Just get through this, alright, Bar, and then you can stop for a minute."

"Come on, Barry, I know you can do it," Iris said, and gave his hand a squeeze, and Barry squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth.

He didn't feel the needle at all at first, didn't even know the dentist had started, and then there was a sharp prick and Barry let out a short, surprised and pained cry, and then it got worse, a sharp, stabbing, burning pain with a million electric needle pins and Barry tightened all up, muscles tensing, pushing back against the bed, and he screamed.

"All done, all done, honey, I know, I'm sorry about that, it has to go in deep for the root canal. It's all done, sweetie."

Barry was shaking and he had bolted upwards and he was looking at Iris and then at Joe and he was scared and it hurt and he couldn't breathe.

"Easy, easy, kid, it's OK." Barry grabbed at Joe's hand and Joe held it and kept talking in a slow, calm voice while Barry trembled.

"That hurt, it hurts," he said, shaking and looking at Iris like this was her fault. "It hurt, it _really_ hurt. It still _hurts_." A short cry slipped out between his teeth and then a little sob, which he tried to hold back and failed, shoulders shaking, a tear slipping down his face, and he suddenly wished Iris wasn't there because he felt absolutely pathetic and humiliated but he was still terrified and it did, it hurt, and it had hurt, it had hurt a lot. He'd never had Novocain that bad before, it had felt like his jaw was on fire, and he couldn't get the feeling out of his head and now he was scared, was terrified.

"It's OK," Iris said, "It's done now."

"It _hurts_," he said again with a little cry.

"But it's done," she said firmly, rubbing his back. "And now you won't feel a thing."

He shook his head. "Hurts," he said again. The pain was still there, although now it was being eaten up by the icy numbness, and then suddenly Barry couldn't stop crying because he wanted to go home and it had hurt and now he was scared, was scared worse, even with the laughing gas and he turned to Joe.

"I want to go home," he said, "I'm panicking now – I'm scared – it's not working, the laughing gas isn't working, I want to go home."

"Bar," Joe said gently, rubbing his back as well now, "you just got the worst of it over with. If you go home now you'll have to do that all over another day."

"I don't care," he shouted, "I don't care, I want to go home, I wa-ant to go home." He kept crying, his face in his hands now because he wanted to stop and he couldn't, and he knew what Joe was saying made sense but he was terrified and he couldn't stop crying and he didn't – couldn't go through the root canal now.

"Bar," Joe said, "you really need to get it done today. You've been really brave so far, and you just made it through the worst part – it's all downhill from here, I promise, OK? Think you can be really brave just a little bit longer?"

"No," Barry said, muffled, because he wanted to go home and he knew what Joe was doing and he didn't want it – he just wanted to go home, where it was safe, where he was OK.

"I think you can," Joe said, "but I think you need to lie back down, and get that nitrous mask back over your face –" it had slipped when he'd sat up – "and try and take some deep breaths for a few minutes."

"_No_," Barry said, because he knew Joe wouldn't let him leave, and he didn't want, couldn't do this.

"Barry," Joe said, "if you really can't calm down, I'll take you home, but you've made it so far already, Bar, it be a shame to waste it and have to do it all over again."

Barry just kept crying, not responding, because he didn't have anything to say and Joe wasn't listening to him anyway.

"Barry," Joe said, impossibly gently still, "lie back now, that's it, no – Bar, no, you don't need to cry more." His voice was so soft, gentle, and he pushed Barry's hair back over his face, and wiped at the tears there. "It's OK, Bar, I promise, it's OK. Take some deep breaths, Bar, I'm going to put the mask back on." He moved it back in place, and then just kept stroking his hair. "Just relax, Bar, it's OK. We're going to give you another five minutes, OK? And if you're not OK I'll take you home, I promise, Bar, but you have to try for me. You've been _so_ good this far, Bar, let's just see if you can calm down a little, OK? I promise if you can't I'll take you home, but try for me, Bar. I know you don't want to go through that again, and as scary as this is, I know you know it'll be a lot easier if you can just get it done today."

Barry kept his eyes closed but Joe kept stroking his hair and Iris rubbed his arm and he took deep breaths like Joe said until he stopped crying, and then shaking too, and his mouth was completely numb now and he kept breathing in the laughing gas until his body had calmed down and the fear wasn't choking him anymore.

"OK, Bar, we're gonna let them start, OK, son?" Joe said gently.

Barry made a scared noise, but just as he did Iris took his hand and he grabbed tightly, his face contorting.

"You're OK, Bar," Joe said, "you're OK."

Barry was still scared, but everything was back to that hazy, dizzy blanket and he didn't fight him this time. He just clenched both his hands tightly and hesitantly opened his mouth for the dentist.

He got scared this time. They'd go for a little bit, and this time they didn't tell him anything they were doing, which Barry didn't like at all, but if he had known would probably have only wished he hadn't. Joe told him to keep his eyes shut, so he did, and Iris thought that was a great idea, because she was getting scared watching the tools go into Barry's mouth.

Barry didn't feel any pain, but he did feel pressure, and it was very uncomfortable at times, so much that it would scare him and he'd tighten up and panic so much they had to stop a few times. But every time he raised his arm they stopped and he opened his eyes and looked, panic stricken, at Joe, and Joe would tell him to breathe, and that it was alright, and after a few minutes Barry would be ready to start again, some times more willing than others. He pleaded to stop a few times, but Joe gently denied his requests, reminded him that it was almost over, and that he had plenty of time to calm down, that they'd go as slow as he needed, and after a long, painstaking amount of time with the stops and starts every time he got scared, it was over.

Barry followed Joe back out to the car, his hand still in Iris's, but it wasn't until he was sitting with the seatbelt on and the car started moving that he started to shake. He shrunk in on himself and shook, and he was still holding Iris's hand, and his grip tightened again.

"It's OK," she said, without even looking at him, just gave his hand a squeeze. "It's all done."

"It hurt," he said.

"Just the Novocain. I know that was bad, but it's done."

He didn't say anything else, and the shaking had petered out after a few minutes.

"You want to get ice cream, Bar?" Joe asked.

"No," Barry said, "I want to go home."

"You sure, kiddo?"

"Yeah."

When they got back, Barry went straight to his room. Iris and Joe watched, and Iris started to head up the stairs, but Joe stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Give him some space," he said, "if he's not down in half an hour then we'll check in on him."

Meanwhile Barry was upstairs, and he was shaking. He couldn't get the feeling of the needle sliding into his gums out of his head. It wasn't the pain really – it had hurt a lot, but he had experienced much worse pain before – it was that he hadn't been expecting it. He knew it would hurt, but he hadn't thought it would hurt that much, and the shock, coupled with the situation where he was already terrified, had him reeling. He couldn't stop shaking now, couldn't stop thinking about. He curled up on the bed and he was crying without realizing that he had started.

A while later (a half hour later) there was a knock on his door. "Barry?"

"I don't want to talk," Barry said, going still. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes, and then heard the door creak open.

"I know," Iris said, "but you should anyway."

Barry shook his head, hid his face from Iris as he wiped at the tears, tried to stop crying. She sat on his other side, and gently started rubbing his back. "It's OK," she said softly.

"I don't – I don't want to talk about it," Barry said again, and he squeezed his eyes shut because he didn't, he didn't want to talk about it at all, was trying desperately not to think about it, couldn't stop it from replaying over and over in his head, from feeling incredibly vulnerable and entirely helpless.

"OK," Iris said, "OK, we won't talk about it." And she just sat there with him, her hand on his back or shoulder the whole time, until he fell asleep.

**So, next one is either seventeen or twenty one, I'm sort of writing two at once right now (I'll skip around ages, not just go in order) Thank you guys for all the suggestions! I don't know if I'll be doing any of Barry after he gets powers though - it's not that I don't like the idea, it's just that I've already done it a couple of times actually in other stories, although I might wind up writing something from this perspective - having him have been afraid all his life, and now he has to do it without novicane... that could definitly be interesting... so, let me know what you thought of this! :) And thank you everyone for reading and for the reviews!**


	4. Seventeen - The Cleaning

**OK, so thank you to all the suggestions - I will be doing wisdom teeth next, already started working on it, but first this is going to be a sequence of something in between (it has implications for the wisdom teeth, so I have to do it first). This one might be a bit more angsty... sorry (not really) :)**

Barry was seventeen, he was driving himself to the dentist, and he was definitely, most positively, not freaking out.

He was a senior in high school, would be graduating in a few months. He could go to the dentist by himself for a regular cleaning. He'd be fine. It would be fine. He was practically eighteen. He could do this by himself, could go. It wasn't a cavity or anything – it was just a cleaning. There would be no shots, no needles, no drilling. He was fine. Totally fine.

He parked the car and then sat there for a good ten minutes. He was already late. Maybe they couldn't take him. Maybe he was too late. He'd totally understand – he was always running late – he'd just reschedule. Yeah, he'd just reschedule, it was fine – it was totally fine.

He checked the clock as he got out of the car, willing his hands not to tremble. He was twenty five minutes late now. They probably couldn't take him.

Barry walked inside, swallowed hard, and approached the desk. As soon as he walked through the doors the sterile smell of dentist offices hit him – not quite as revolting as the harsh rubbing alcohol smell of doctors' offices, and not the faint smell of illness mixed with cleaner of hospitals, but just that touch of chemical to the off white sterile blankness that had his heart beat kicking up in a minute.

"Hi, um, Barry Allen," he said, when he approached the desk, "um, I'm kind of late, so, I don't know – I mean, if I have to reschedule, that's fine." His voice was all rushed and the assistant smiled.

"No, it's alright," she said, "Jessica is already waiting for you out back. You can go right through – the second to last door on the right."

Barry's stomach sank and he almost froze. His mind whirred. He could feign illness, say he was sick – or pretend to get a call that was an emergency. Instead he found himself walking forward, down the hall to the room almost at the end.

He was starting to notice a trend when he came. They almost always put him at the back. The only times he hadn't been back there was when it was already occupied, and then it was usually screaming children in there. He had a sneaking suspicion that they knew he got panicked and loud, and didn't want him freaking out the other clients. Most of the staff knew him, even if he didn't know them, because he was always the pale faced boy accompanied by his foster father or his best friend, if not both.

He walked into the room to find the hygienist already there. Jessica. He recognized her, but not the name, knew that she had helped him before. She was kind, young – a nice smile on her face.

"Have a seat, Barry. I was wondering when you'd get here."

"Yeah, uh, traffic," he mumbled, going to sit down, already trembling all over. He kept looking over at the equipment, the little metal tools and the posters on the wall that had him flinching away.

She laughed, and he was pretty sure they had expected him to be late. Maybe Joe had even called and moved back the appointment on purpose – Barry wouldn't put it past him. The hygienist started to lower the chair, and Barry jumped.

"Sorry," she said, stopping, before starting again. Barry let out a long breath, clenched his hands tightly together. _I'm fine, _he thought, _I'm almost eighteen – I can go to a stupid dentist appointment._

"I'm just going to check your teeth out for cavities first, Barry," she said after getting done with the initial questions.

Barry swallowed, and nodded. He hated this part. He saw her pick up the metal tool, the pointy end on one side, and he had to close his eyes.

_I'm OK, I'm OK, I'm OK, _he thought desperately.

"Easy there," Jessica said, "take a deep breath, Barry. This won't hurt, I'm just tapping at the teeth a little."

Tapping. Sure. Barry was pretty sure it was more like sticking into his teeth, but he didn't say anything. He opened his mouth and clenched his hands together tighter and tried to keep his breathing even.

"Jessica," someone said, just as she was about to start. Barry let out a breath as the tool was taken out of his mouth. "Chris is on line two, you need to take the call now."

Barry could see a flicker of concern cross Jessica's face, but she just smiled and said. "I'll be right back, Barry," and left.

She was not right back.

Barry laid back in the chair for a couple minutes, until he started fidgeting too much, and then he sat up. But that wasn't comfortable, so he got off the chair and sat in the one in the corner of the room instead and waited. It was not doing anything for his nerves, and he was just about to walk out and ask if he should come back another time when a man entered the room.

"Hi," he said, looking flustered, "I'm Andrew, hello."

He stuck out his hand and Barry shook it. "Barry," he said.

"Yes," Andrew said, taking up the clip board that Jessica had left on the counter. "Jessica's had a family emergency, so I'm going to be taking over for today."

Barry's stomach clenched, and he suddenly felt really guilty about thinking of faking a medical emergency to get out of going. He didn't have long to think on it though, because Andrew was gesturing towards the chair. "Why don't you sit back down, and I'll have a look. She was just starting the exam, right?"

"Yeah," Barry said, feeling the nervousness start up all over again. He sat back down, and then reluctantly leaned himself down.

"Nervous, are we?" he asked.

Barry let out a long breath. "Yeah, I uh, sorry, I get really anxious." His face went a little red.

"No worries," Andrew said, "Just a regular cleaning."

He picked up the tool that Jessica had and Barry closed his eyes and opened his mouth. He felt the hygienist scraping at his front teeth, and suppressed a shudder. He hated this part, absolutely hated it. It set him on edge and he had to block out the thoughts because if he focused on the dentist than they weren't anything good.

Andrew scraped against his gums a little bit, and Barry jumped.

"Sensitive gums," Andrew said, "it looks like they're inflamed a little bit." He kept going and Barry started to squirm as the tool slipped and kept hitting his gums. He started trembling again and couldn't stop, pressing his head hard into the back of the chair, hands clenched around the arm rests now. It wasn't that it hurt terribly, but it was making the whole thing worse, making him more and more nervous until he was on the edge of a panic attack.

Andrew seemed oblivious. He started going into Barry's back teeth and it only got worse. He wasn't hitting Barry's gums anymore, so there wasn't any pain, but Barry swore he could feel the tool going into his teeth, hitting against them, and he couldn't stop shaking, sweating.

"H-h-hold on," Barry said, raising his arm like they always had him do when he needed a break, talking around the tool.

"Just a moment," he said.

Barry shuddered, and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He was terribly pale.

"W-wait," Barry said, his voice going shrill. The hygienist pushed down and Barry nearly screamed, a sharp pain sprouting in his mouth. The hygienist paused.

"It looks like a cavity right here. Do you feel any pain?" He did something else and Barry was nodding, nodding fast, shaking. It hurt, it hurt, and it scared him.

"Alright, I'll have the dentist look at it – we'll have you make an appointment for that before you leave. You have a couple in here that don't look so good. He took the tool out of his mouth and Barry took in long gasping breaths. His head was spinning, dizzy, and he couldn't catch his breath.

The hygienist spun back towards him. "Open your mouth again for me?" he said.

"W-wait," Barry said, still trying to catch his breath. "Just a second, I – just one minute."

"It won't take long, I just have to check the top left," he said, his expression calm the whole time.

Barry shook his head, backing up on the chair. "I just need a minute."

"Barry."

"I- I'm sorry, just – I – I just need a minute, really."

The hygienist's hand was against his shoulder. "It's better to just get it over with," he said, and Barry panicked.

"Wait – wait, one minute, I just need one minute!"

"Open your mouth, Barry."

And Barry was crying, shaking all over, his back against the chair now, and he was embarrassed and ashamed and he opened his mouth because he didn't know what else to do and he was pressing against his teeth and he was scared.

His knees were halfway in the air and he had his eyes squeezed shut, knuckles white on the arm rests.

"Almost done, Barry," Andrew said, "It'll only be-"

Barry screamed.

He startled the hygienist so much that Andrew jumped back, and then Barry's hands were on his mouth, crying, shaking, utterly pale, and so dizzy that he was getting lightheaded. He had touched something in Barry's mouth, hit something that made a white hot pain erupt in his mouth, a searing pain, and this time it was one of the most painful things he could recall. He was staring in front of him, eyes blank, shaking, sitting up. The pain was gone, but it seemed to echo on his skin, in his mouth. He couldn't breathe.

"Barry, Barry are you alright?" Andrew asked. He went to put a hand on Barry's shoulder and Barry flinched away.

Barry shook his head. "It – it hurt," he said, but he couldn't manage to get anything else out.

Andrew frowned. "Can I see?"

Barry shook his head furiously, putting up his hand, but Andrew was pushing him back, and it wasn't hard or rough but Barry felt helpless, felt weak and shameful and he let Andrew push him back because he knew he was acting hysterical and it made him embarrassed, and because he couldn't think straight enough to go against him.

The tool was in his mouth again. Barry was shaking, and he felt it sticking against his teeth again, against the same spot and then –"

He let out another scream and this time it was so loud that someone from another room came running in, throwing open the door, and Andrew had a shocked and slightly paled look on his face. Barry was just crying, and had jerked his mouth shut, and he couldn't think, couldn't do anything but be afraid.

"Is everything alright?" the person who had come in asked.

"Yes, it's fine, it's an exposed nerve – might need a root canal – I need Dr. Johnson to take a look at it.

"No," Barry said, but he didn't even acknowledge him.

The rest of the cleaning went by in a daze. Andrew cleaned his teeth, used the fluoride, flossed, and finished up with everything. Barry was a shaking mess, occasionally protesting, which Andrew either gently denied or calmly ignored. By the time the dentist came in Barry was strung so tight he was sure to snap soon.

Barry was terrified, looked up at the dentist with wide eyes. "Don't touch it," he said, "please, don't touch it – it – it –"

"I'm not going to touch it, Barry," the dentist said, putting a hand on his arm, frowning when he saw him. He started rubbing his shoulder. "It's OK, Barry, I won't touch it – I know it hurts." Barry nodded, almost frantically, protested a little bit when he told him to open his mouth. He clammed up though, got scared, and the dentist coaxed him into opening his mouth. Barry trembled, terrified he'd feel that pain again, but he didn't – just little shots of pain once or twice – the dentist apologized after each time he winced, and then he was told that he just had a bad cavity on that side, and that he needed to schedule two appointments to get that, and the other cavity filled.

Barry didn't schedule the appointments. He walked out and back to his car. Joe had already paid, so he didn't need to go to the desk. He went back to his car, and sat their trembling. He did that for a solid fifteen minutes. Then he called Iris.

"Hello?"

All Barry managed at first was a shaky breath, silence over the line.

"Barry? Hello?"

"Iris." His voice cracked.

There was a beat of pause and then, "I'm here, Bar, what's wrong? Did everything go OK at the dentist?"

He just barely suppressed a sob. "_No._"

Another beat of pause. "OK, where are you right now, Bar?"

"The – the parking lot."

"Th- wait, the parking lot of the dentist office?"

"Yes."

"OK, are you coming home? I'm home right now."

"I – Iris, I can't drive."

There was silence for a moment, and when Iris spoke again her voice very, very calm, and very steady. "OK, I'm going to call my Dad, OK, Barry. He's going to come pick you up."

"OK," Barry said, his voice cracking again.

"I'm going to call him by the land line, so you just stay on the phone with me, alright?"

"Alright." And Barry was grateful, relaxed just the slightest bit.

He could hear her talking in the background, could hear her on the other line, and then she was back.

"OK, I'm back, Bar. Dad's going to be there in twenty minutes, OK? Can you hang on that long?"

"Y-yeah."

"OK, I'm going to stay on the phone with you. Do you wanna tell me about it?"

Barry shuddered. "They – they –" He couldn't breathe.

"OK, slow down, Bar, take some deep breaths. How about we talk about something else, OK? We can talk about that once you get here. You missed chemistry – want to know what you missed?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Barry said, and suddenly he could breathe again, taking in lungful's of air. He listened as Iris described what they had done, managing to calm down a little bit, until Joe reached him. He was in a cop car, riding shotgun, and someone let him out. Barry was getting out and in the passenger seat before Joe could even reach the car.

"Hey, son," Joe said, and Barry couldn't help it, he burst into tears all over again.

**Yay, so two more parts to this one, then the next I promise. Please let me know what you think! Thank you!**


	5. Seventeen - Home

**Warning: language, slight dark themes (I don't want to give it away, message me for more info if you need it)**

"I'm really proud of you, Bar, for calling Iris – for telling her you couldn't drive," Joe said, "It… it's really important you do that, Bar – to call someone when you're somewhere and know you can't drive yourself. It's the same as drinking and driving or doing drugs and driving – you can't be in a state where you can't focus and be driving."

Joe glanced over at Barry, but he had his head hung low, staring at the ground with his knees in tight to his chest, arms wrapped around them. They were sitting on the couch, and for once Barry hadn't tried to run up to his room, he had sat down there, but Joe had shooed Iris away, at least for a few minutes.

"Barry?"

"Mhm," Barry said, looking over, eyes glazed. There were tear stains on his face, his eyes red and puffy.

"You did the right thing," Joe said, looking at him solidly. "I will always come get you if you can't drive yourself for any reason."

There was silence, and then Joe took a breath. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Barry didn't say anything. Just when Joe was about to open his mouth, Barry spoke. His voice was low and flat.

"He hit a nerve."

"He did what?"

"He said he hit an exposed nerve," Barry said, his voice hollow, and Joe heard the waver at the end of it, the hard swallow that Barry took before continuing. "It hurt. It hurt more…" He took a shaky breath. "More than anything they've ever done. More than… it… it really hurt."

"Alright, well –"

"He didn't stop," Barry said, and he was wringing his hands out. His face contracted. "I – I asked to stop and he wouldn't. He kept – and I – and then it hurt." Joe saw the split second where his face crumpled, and then he had his hands up again, shaking and crying and hiding his face.

"Bar, it's OK," Joe said, putting an arm around him, drawing him into a hug.

"He wouldn't sto-op," Barry said, hiccupping out sobs.

"He should have. I'll call them. He shouldn't have done that."

"I was so scared," Barry said, still gasping for breath, "and he – he didn't stop when I asked and – and then he hit it and he – he touched it _again_." He let out a sob and then he was grabbing at Joe's jacket, shaking his head against his shoulder. "I don't wanna go back, I can't go back, I can't. I don't wanna ever go back." He was crying hard.

"It's OK, Bar. You don't have to do anything right now. Shh, it's OK," Joe said, trying to comfort him, but Barry was hysterical now, crying so hard he got dizzy because of the lack of air. Joe just held him until he stopped, until he calmed down.

"I have to make an appointment," Barry said, his voice a whisper, "I don't want to. I have two cavities, I have to make two appointments. I don't want to go. I don't want to. They're going to hit it again and it hurts. It hurts and I don't care, I don't care if I'm a coward and a baby, I don't want to feel that kind of pain again, Joe, I can't – it hurts too much. I don't wanna go back – I – they'll hit it again, they will."

"Shh, Bar, let's not worry about that now, OK? Let's just have you relax right now, alright? You don't need to worry about another appointment right now."

"But – but –"

"No," Joe said, his voice soothing, "later. We'll worry about it later. Just relax. Nice deep breaths, Barry."

"No," Barry said, "no, Joe, I can't – I can't – promise you won't make me. I don't care – I don't care, promise, swear you won't make me go."

"Barry," Joe said, holding him tight and sighing.

"Please," Barry said with a cry, "I can't go back, I won't – you have to promise, I can't, Joe."

"Barry, we'll worry about that later," Joe said, "we'll talk about it later."

"No," Barry said, "no." He grabbed at Joe, crying, hyperventilating, and it took him a long time to calm down this time. A long time of Joe repeating that he was alright, that everything was OK and of reminding him to breathe until he finally started listening and managed to come down from the panic attack.

Barry didn't talk the rest of the night. Iris came down and sat with him on the couch, holding his hand. He didn't talk. It freaked her out, but she didn't say anything about it. She chatted just like normal, and watched TV, and squeezed his hand every once in a while. He wouldn't eat anything for dinner, and Joe just barely got him to drink something. He went to bed two hours early, disappearing in there only for Joe to creak the door open a sliver to see him asleep.

LLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

He doesn't go to school the next day. He stays home and doesn't talk and Joe doesn't want to leave him alone but he has to go into work so he relents to Iris's pleas and lets her stay home too. And if he maybe makes a visit to the dentist office with his gun at his side and a few extra officers in uniform just to go have a very loud conversation with the man who worked with Barry the day before, well, that wasn't important.

Barry stayed home. A friend gets the homework that both he and Iris missed at school, and Barry takes it and starts working, focusing entirely on that. Joe sends him to school the next day after seeing, because he guesses that the work and the distraction is good for him, and it looks like he's right because when he comes home the next day he's talking again, so Joe counts it as a win.

Joe called them to make the appointment the next day. He didn't tell Barry.

It's a couple weeks later, so they have time. Joe watches as Barry slowly gets back to normal, and then the night before the appointment, he tells him.

"We're gonna get the worse one over with first," Joe said.

Barry didn't look up. He had wrapped his arms around his knees, and he was staring at the floor in the living room, on the couch.

"Barry?"

He still won't look up. He stared at the ground, and Joe sighed.

"We're gonna get you laughing gas, and the dentist who you saw before is going to work with you, and he assured me he would not touch the nerve, Barry. You won't feel any pain."

He didn't move.

"It's going to be fine, Barry," Joe said, desperately now, watching him.

Barry stood up, and then he turned, and then he was half-running up the stairs, the back of his sleeve wiping across his face, and then he was in his room.

Joe sighed.

LLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

"You won't feel any pain," Joe said again, for the billionth time. "You'll be all numbed up on Novocain, anyway. It won't hurt."

Barry wouldn't look up and he wouldn't move and he wouldn't talk. He was sitting up in bed, knees hugged to his chest again, staring at the blankets in front of him. He was still in his pajamas.

"It's just a cavity," Joe said, "you've had cavities filled before. It's not so bad."

Barry tightened his grip around his legs.

"Bar, I really need you to get up and get ready."

Barry didn't move. He heard everything Joe was saying but he was blocking it out. He didn't want to go, but more than that, he had decided that he was not going. With the decision came a surreal sort of calm, that mock-feeling of control. He was not going. There was no reason to panic because he wasn't going.

He didn't feel like talking, and when he was really upset, or really scared, talking itself felt like a chore, so it wasn't really that different for him to not talk, but now he was doing it on purpose too, because if he didn't talk, then Joe couldn't argue with him, and he couldn't take him in to the dentist office. If he wouldn't talk, wouldn't even entertain the conversation, then Joe couldn't just call him stubborn and make threats and coerce him into going. He was taller than Joe now, and he couldn't physically force him to go, and Barry had decided that he was not going.

It wasn't a logical decision, wasn't based on anything at all. He wasn't kidding himself thinking he'd be fine or he didn't need it filled, his mind had just shut down. He was so terrified of it that he couldn't stand to think of it at all, until that statement was all he could hear in his head: _I'm not going, I'm not going_.

"Barry, can you please look at me, son."

Barry didn't. He kept his head down. He stared at one spot.

"Bar, you really need to go, son. Do you think you could just get dressed for me? Just get dressed and then we'll talk some more?"

No. Barry didn't move.

"We're not going anywhere yet, I just really need you to get dressed, Barry."

Barry shifted his feet a little. He liked the pajamas. He was wearing long sweatpants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. It was warm and comfortable and he felt better in them, safer – which he didn't understand, except that they were comfortable so maybe he just liked them better.

"Barry, can you please talk to me? Can you please just tell me what's going on in your head right now?"

Barry felt guilty, because he could hear the desperation in Joe's voice, and he knew he was trying, was really trying to help him, and that he hated seeing Barry this way, but Barry still didn't move.

"If you just talk to me," Joe said, "then we can work it out, Barry. You can tell me what you're worrying about. We can get the dentist to talk to you before we start – have him tell you himself that he won't hit the nerve, that it won't hurt – he can tell you exactly what he's going to do."

Barry almost shook his head. He wanted to bury it in his knees, because this was where Joe usually got him, right here, when he was trying to comfort him, because Barry wanted it – he wanted to talk and he wanted the comfort, but Barry kept staring right ahead because he wasn't going, he had decided.

"Barry, even if he did, _if_ he did, and he _assured me_ that he would not, _absolutely not_, but if he did, then we'd go home. I wouldn't make you stay – we would go right home. No matter what, Barry, I promise."

He didn't move.

There was a long silence.

Joe spoke in a quiet voice. "Barry, if you don't say something to me then I'm calling your therapist."

Barry's head snapped right up, eyes wide with shock, and then anger. He opened his mouth once, then closed it, clenching his teeth. He had adamantly, completely and continually, refused to go to see the therapist, until Joe finally gave up and let it go. He knew that Barry hated it, that he absolutely hated going.

"Do you need to see her?" Joe said, still in the quiet voice. "To talk about this?"

And Barry sputtered, and finally broke with a, "_No._"

Joe took in a deep breath at the word, at the sound of his voice. "Barry, you need to tell me what's going on, then," he said.

But Barry fumed and put his chin on his knees and stared, now determinedly, down at the bed. He didn't move and he ignored Joe as he kept talking, until there was a long pause again.

"Barry, I mean it. If you don't start talking to me I'm calling her. If you won't move then I'll have her come here – you know she does in home –"

"That's not fair!" Barry yelled, hands clenching together as he finally looked up.

"Barry –"

"You – you can't just use that – that as a punishment," Barry said.

"It wasn't supposed to be –"

"Bullshit."

"Watch your mouth," Joe said, recoiling and his eyes lighting up, but Barry didn't care, he was angry.

"You know I hate her – you know I hate her and you knew I wouldn't keep going if you threatened me with it – that's – that's just – I can't believe you'd do that."

Joe's face softened a little. He ran his hand over it quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Barry, you were sitting in front of me for almost twenty minutes without saying a word – maybe this is all fun and games to you but let me tell you what it's like to watch your kid shut down and not say one word like that – because it's pretty close to terrifying, Barry."

Barry put his chin back on his knees, seething in anger now, staring at the bed because he couldn't look at Joe, still mad.

"Well I'm not mute or something," Barry said, "you don't have to worry now."

Joe took a deep breath. "Barry, we still have to –"

"I'm not going."

"Barry –"

"I'm not going," Barry said, "I'm not going, I'm not talking about it, and I'm not moving if it means getting into your car and going to the dentist."

"Barry, you can't just hide in here for the rest of your life."

"You always do this," Barry said angrily, hugging himself tighter. "I say I won't go, and then you talk until I give in. Well I'm not going this time."

"Barry, you are seventeen –"

"You're right," Barry snapped, and he looked up again, and there were angry tears in the corners of his eyes, "you're right, I'm seventeen and that means you can't force me to now – I'm not a little kid anymore and you can't pick me up and drag me there."

"You are seventeen and need to start understanding that even when you are scared, you still have to take care of yourself," Joe said, his voice harsh.

Barry's face contorted. "Yeah, and look how that turned out," he practically yelled, looking straight at him now. "I make an appointment, and I go – and I actually get there – and I – do you have any idea how hard that was for me? Do you have any idea how many times I thought about staying at school, about going somewhere else, about calling and faking it was you, about leaving even once I got there? Do you have any idea how stressful the last few days have been for me, thinking about it? But I went, _Joe_. I went to the goddamned dentist office and when I got _scared_ he _pushed me down_ and _forced me_ to keep going. I went by myself and he touched a nerve, _twice_, that hurt worse than anything I can _remember_. I was the mature seventeen year old who went to the fucking dentist office even though I was terrified, because I know I have to _take care of myself, even though I'm scared_, and it was every bit as absolutely awful as I could ever imagine it could be and now I don't fucking _care _that I have to do it for my health because I'd _rather die_ than do it again. I'd rather _fucking die_ in this _fucking house_ then go to that _fucking office_ ever, _ever _again. _I don't care_ – I don't care, I don't –"

And Joe was hugging him and he was sobbing, sobbing against his shoulder and terrified and upset and he meant it, he meant it and he was still angry, still mad at Joe, still horribly mad that he could even say those things to him when he knew, he _knew_ how hard it was for him, but he was terrified and ashamed and he couldn't stop crying.

"Alright, alright, son," Joe said, "easy. Just breathe. It's alright. I'm sorry, Bar, it's alright."

"I mean it," he mumbled, still crying, "I mean it, I won't go, I won't – I'll kill myself. I'll do it."

"Barry," Joe said, and Barry couldn't even begin to unearth the layers under his name there.

"I'll kill myself," he muttered again, because somehow it felt good, and he didn't know why then, but it did and he knew it scared Joe and that made him feel better then, even if he'd feel guilty for it later, because Joe couldn't make him go.

"Barry, please," Joe said, and Barry didn't know what he was asking, but he wouldn't give it.

"I don't care," Barry said again, "I won't go."

"OK, Barry," Joe said, rubbing his back, "OK, we won't go today. We won't go today, Barry, I'll cancel the appointment."

And Barry could suddenly breathe, but he didn't feel any better. He was still afraid and he was still angry and he was still upset and he didn't know why because Joe had said he didn't have to go, but he was still crying.

"It's OK, Bar," Joe said, and his voice was thick. "It's OK, I promise. It's going to be OK."

LLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

"Why did you say that?"

Barry looked up. Iris had stormed into the room, throwing the door open.

"Say what?"

"Say you were going to kill yourself. Why did you say you were going to kill yourself?"

Barry felt a knot tie itself in his throat. He looked back down at his book. "I got upset. It's fine. I didn't mean it."

"Really, Barry, because my dad was downstairs crying, and I'm pretty sure he just called that damn therapist you hate so much."

Barry's stomach dropped and the book slipped out of his fingers. "What – but I – I didn't mean it, I just – I just got upset, I got – I got scared, and I was angry – I didn't – I'm not going to actually _do_ it."

"Well maybe you should go tell him that," Iris said, her arms crossed, but a tension leaked out of her shoulders. She sat down on his bed, folding one leg in underneath her.

"You're not, right?" she said quietly, "it really was just because you were upset?"

"Yes," he said.

She looked up at him. "Because we could help – I would help. If you really just don't want to see the shrink again I wouldn't tell my dad, you can always –"

"Oh my God, Iris, I'm not going to kill myself – I got upset, I said I'd rather die, and then that – that was just the next thing – I don't know – I just said it, I didn't think."

"Would you really rather die?" she asked, but some of the fear had left her expression, and now it was more a concerned curiosity.

"Sometimes," he said quietly, "I don't… I don't want to die, just… I get really scared and it seems… I don't think and then I'd just – I'd do _anything_ to get out of the situation."

"OK," she said, nodding, "I get that, I think."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I just… the last one… it messed me up."

"Yeah, I know, Bar."

"No," he said, and he shook his head, "you don't – you don't… it was always… it was always just this fear, but now – now it's like – there's your reason – that's why you should be afraid – because they won't stop and they'll hurt you, and now I can't – I can't stop thinking about it."

Iris opened her mouth, but Joe walked in and they both turned.

Joe walked right inside, without saying anything, and set down an orange plastic pill bottle, right in front of him on the bed.

Barry frowned at him in confusion, and then picked up bottle and read the label.

His eyes went wide and he looked up. "Valium?"

Joe nodded. "For the night before and the morning of. You have a new appointment Friday, in the morning. They'll still give you laughing gas, and they'll still explain everything, and they won't – I made him promise or the whole thing would be free – won't touch the nerve."

Barry just stared for a second.

"Your welcome," Joe said, and he went back downstairs.

Barry turned to Iris, still with his mouth open.

She shrugged, her eyes wide as well. "If you say anything stupid I'm videotaping."

**So one more to finish this sequence, out soon hopefully, thanks for reading, and please comment and let me know what you think!**


	6. Seventeen - Cavity

**Whooooo I'm back. Anyway, here you go: (Also, Barry really doesn't do well in this one, as a warning)**

It wasn't enough to make him say anything stupid. At least not too stupid. It wasn't like the drugs they used for wisdom teeth, or anything like that – it was more like the laughing gas.

Barry took the first pill the night before. He was on edge the whole day. He didn't want to go. He was terrified, and he had already tried to get out of it a few times. Iris quietly canceled her plans that Thursday night, and stayed with him on the couch watching TV and movies and doing homework. When it was around eight at night Barry rolled the orange plastic bottle in his hands, and then took out a single, small round pill. He swallowed it with a glass of water, and then set the container next to his bed for the morning.

It wasn't long before he started to feel the effects. At first it was just a slight calming effect – like a blanket thrown over his thoughts – muffling everything. And then his body started to relax, his heartrate slowing, respiratory rate dropping. He started to feel very relaxed, thoughts drifting in and out like water. Iris kept glancing at him, her look curious and a little mischievous. He glared at her.

"I'm not about to burst into song or something," he said, but even the words felt slow. His eyes drooped and he started to get tired.

"Is it working?" Iris asked. Joe was discretely listening from the kitchen.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed," Barry mumbled, and then got up and walked up the stairs. Joe and Iris shared a look.

LLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

"I can't go, Joe," Barry said, wringing his hands, looking all over the place. His voice was verging on hysterical, escalating. "I can't – I can't go, I can't."

"Take the pill, Barry," Joe said. He had the cap off the bottle, and was holding out a glass of water as well, but Barry was curled up on the bed shaking his head.

"No, no, no," he said into his knees.

"Barry," Joe said, sitting down next to him. "Take the pill. You'll feel better, Bar."

Barry shook his head. "I'm not going."

"Barry," Joe said, taking a deep breath. "Swallow the pill. It made you relax last night, remember? Now take this. It will make you feel better."

"But I –"

"Barry Allen, so help me God, take the pill."

Barry ducked his head, face red, and finally took the glass of water from Joe, swallowing the pill quickly. He went silent after that, not looking at him, and Joe just sat on the bed until he started to notice the change in Barry – the way he held himself, some of the tension leaking out of his shoulders.

"You feeling better now?" Joe asked softly after a while had gone by.

Barry didn't move. "No."

"Barry."

"I don't – I still don't want to go."

"I know you don't," Joe said, sighing, "but they'll give you laughing gas when you get there too. You'll be so drugged up you won't even know what's going on." He smiled, meant it as a joke, but Barry only frowned into his knees.

"No I won't."

"Can you get ready to go, son? We don't have to leave yet but do you think you could get dressed and ready?"

Barry glared at the bedspread some more, and then finally got up and started pulling out clothes.

"That's it," Joe said, "you can do it. It's going to be fine."

Barry muttered something under his breath and Joe resisted the urge to roll his eyes before walking back down stairs. Iris was there waiting. She raised an eyebrow.

"He's coming," Joe said. He didn't miss the breath that Iris let out as she went back to watching TV.

He came down the stairs a good twenty minutes later, dressed, and not looking happy at all.

"You should eat something," Joe said, "I made pancakes."

Barry slumped into the kitchen and sat down. He was still looking a little pale, and he only picked at the food in front of him. When Joe told him it was time to get going he didn't move.

"Barry," Joe said.

"Joe."

"We need to get going."

Barry pushed soggy pieces of pancake around on his plate.

"Barry, we –"

"I don't want to go," he said quietly.

"I know, Barry."

"It's not working enough."

"They'll have laughing gas too. You already look a lot more relaxed."

"I'm not."

"Barry," Joe said, crossing his arms. "I think you are. Positive thinking, Barry. You're a lot more relaxed then you were earlier, and the laughing gas will only help more. You're going to be fine. Piece of cake."

LLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

It was not a piece of cake.

Barry was a babbling mess the entire car ride, which was odd for him, because he was usually silent when he was scared, until he started pleading to get out of the situation. But he wasn't really pleading and he definitely wasn't silent and Iris was having trouble following the conversation. He switched from off-topic random bits of stories and facts, like he was trying to distract himself, back to the situation at hand and how much he didn't want to go and how much he was sure it was going to hurt and then back again so fast and so abruptly that Iris was stuck repeating the same reassurances only to then nod and ask a question only a moment later. It was almost disorientating.

It wasn't until Joe parked the car that Barry suddenly went silent. He looked at the building, eyes staring.

"You ready to go, Bar?" Joe asked.

Barry shook his head slow.

"The sooner we get in the sooner it'll be over with."

Barry shook his head again.

Joe sighed. He was well accustomed to the ordeal of getting Barry from one stage to the next when it came to the dentist and he had yet to decide which was the worst, getting him in the car, or getting him out.

"He's going to touch the nerve," Barry said, his voice quiet and scared.

Joe sighed again. "He's not going to touch the nerve," he said, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "He promised he wouldn't. It's free if he does. And you know how these people are – they charge a fortune – he wouldn't say that unless he was positive, Bar."

Barry shook his head. "He's going to touch it," he said, and the conviction in his voice startled Joe.

"He's not going to, Bar, I promise."

Barry shook his head. "He's going to touch it and it's going to hurt and I'm going to scream and pass out."

"He won't touch it, Barry," Iris said.

"The other guy did."

"The other guy is an incompetent idiot," Joe said, "and he will not be working with you again."

"He's going to touch it."

"Barry, they're going to give you Novocain anyway, you won't feel anything," Iris said.

"I'll feel that. I'll feel the needle. I don't want to go." His voice had gone quiet, almost a whisper at the end as his voice cracked.

"Come on, Barry, it's time to go," Joe said, and he opened the door, got out, and then opened Barry's, waiting.

Barry didn't move for a while. He didn't say anything and Joe let Iris try to coax him out, promising it wouldn't hurt, that she'd hold his hand, that afterwards they'd watch movies and eat ice-cream, that she'd make brownies, that it was going to be fine. And after about fifteen minutes of that she finally got him to get out of the car, and then practically dragged him to the front door.

"I don't want to do this," Barry said once Iris had all but pushed him into a seat next to her. He was pale as a piece of paper when Iris looked back over at him and with a shock she realized there were tears in his eyes. He was giving her an absolutely miserable look, his face contorted, looking like he was about to cry. He was trembling.

"It's OK," she said, taking his hand. "You'll be fine, Barry. They're going to give you the laughing gas and you'll be nice and relaxed and they're going to numb it all up for you."

He shook his head. "I don't want to, Iris," he said again, shaking his head, trembling worse. "I – I'm scared." His voice cracked.

"I know," she said softly, "I know, Barry. But it's going to be OK. You're going to be just fine."

He kept shaking his head, trembling, looking nervously around the room.

When the assistant came out and called his name, Barry froze. Iris stood, and Joe came over, and the next thing Iris knew Barry was ripping his hand out of hers and she had just enough time to grab his arm before he was able to sprint away.

"No, no, no, I can't, I can't Iris, Joe – I – I –" He was crying, tears falling down his face, Joe blocking his exit, a hand against his back, the other one out in case he bolted. Iris had a hard grip on his wrist, pulling him towards the door. They were lucky there was only a couple other people in the waiting room because they were making quite the scene.

"It's OK," Joe said, his voice steady. "Barry, you're OK. Nothing's going to happen to you."

Iris pulled his arm, and Joe steadily corralled him through the door until the assistant could at least shut the door to the waiting room, and Barry was crying and protesting and begging them to let him go home.

Joe kept pressing him forward, and Barry stumbled, keeping up a constant stream of protests until they reached the room where he'd be in. He saw the chair and panicked more, trying to run, arm ripping out of Iris's grip, only to be grabbed again by Joe.

"No, no, I can't, let go," Barry cried, "please, I can't, please, don't, please, no, no, no."

"Do you have the laughing gas set up?" Joe asked, and the assistant nodded. Joe looked back at Barry. "Barry, we're going to get you the laughing gas. It'll make you feel better. Remember, it makes you nice and relaxed. We're going to give it to you now. It's OK. We're going to get you set up with it."

Barry backed away from the chair though, pushed back against Joe, shaking his head fast and constant, not going anywhere near it.

"Can he sit down over here to start?" Joe asked, directing the question to the assistant again.

"Of course," she said, already bringing the nitrous over.

"Alright, OK, Barry, Barry, it's OK," Joe said, trying to get him to stop yelling for long enough to tell him what was going on.

"Barry," Iris said, grabbing his hand again, holding his shoulder with her other hand, "you don't have to sit in the chair. You don't have to. Just sit here, OK? Barry. Barry, I need you to listen to me. You _don't_ have to sit in the chair."

He looked at her, hyperventilating, crying. She pressed his shoulders down over the wheeling chair they had in the room as well. He seemed surprised by this, looking a little startled, then confused. The assistant held up the mask.

"We're going to start you on the nitrous," she said gently, "just the laughing gas right now. Nothing else."

Barry hiccupped, and looked anxious, but let her fit the mask over his face. He stared up, eyes wide and scared at Iris and Joe as he breathed it in.

"That's it," Joe said, rubbing his shoulder soothingly, "just breathe. It's OK."

"I wanna go home," Barry said, his voice cracking. Iris held the mask up against his face, Barry's hand wrapped around her wrist. He wasn't pulling or trying to move the mask, just gripping it.

"I know, Barr," Iris said, "this'll be over soon and then we can go."

"I wanna go home _now_," he said, a tremor racking his frame with the words.

"I know," Iris said, gently, "but you have to do this. I know you're scared, but it's going to be fine. I'm right here. Me and dad are right here with you and we aren't going to let anything happen to you."

He kept shaking, crying, and within a few minutes his body began to relax. The tremors subsided to smaller trembles and some of the tension eased out of his muscles. He still looked terrified, but there was a glazed over quality to his eyes now.

"Think you could move over to the other chair now, son?" Joe asked.

Barry's eyes widened and he shook his head, tensing up again.

"We won't start anything," Joe said, "just get you nice and comfy lying down."

Barry shook his head again. Joe dropped it for another couple minutes. Barry started to relax, his mind going fuzzy numb and his skin tingling. His breathing was slow and deep and the panic ebbed until it was mostly gone, just a hazy, if strong, sense of fear left.

"Alright, Barr, we're going to need you to move to the other chair now," Joe said.

A shot of panic flew up his spine at the words, back again much quicker than it had gone. He shook his head, face screwing up.

"It's OK," Joe said, "we won't start yet, we're just going to move you."

"No," Barry said, and as Joe began to move he looked desperately at Iris, "no."

"It's OK," Iris said, "we're just switching chairs. Everything's alright.

He kept shaking his head even as Joe pressed against his back and Iris took his hand, pulling it forward, until he was standing.

"I don't want to, I want to go home, I don't want to sit there," he started babbling.

"It's OK. Take deep breaths," Iris said. She tried to get Barry to hold the mask over his face, but he was moving too much. "It's going to be OK, I promise," she said.

Barry shook again, trembling all over, shaking his head, refusing to budge another inch closer to the chair.

"Barry," Iris said, and she forced Barry to look at her, put her hands on his face until he had finally locked eyes with her. "I need you to do this for me, Barry," she said, her voice firm and steady, "I promise it will be alright. Listen to me, Barry. I promise you will be OK. But I need you to sit. OK?"

He hyperventilated, his face contracting again, bottom lip wavering. And then he ducked his head and let out a sob. His face was screwed up in a horrible display of fear and pain and Iris's throat was tight with the want to drag him away from here and never bring him back.

Instead, she hugged him, reached forward and wrapped her arms around him and he cried against her, trying to stop and failing, trembling all over.

"I know that you are really, really scared," she said, "but I'm going to make sure that nothing bad happens to you. I need you to trust me, Barr, OK? I need you to sit down. I promise, _promise_ that it will be OK."

He just kept crying, breath hitching like he was trying to get words out, but nothing came. Iris slowly leant back. "It's OK," she said, smoothing her hands over his shoulders. "You're OK. Let's sit down. It's OK."

She pressed on his shoulders and with another sob he finally relented and sat down in the chair, Iris tapping his legs until he moved them over. The assistant adjusted the chair so he was lying down and Iris pressed the mask over his face so he'd breathe in more of the nitrous oxide. Barry kept crying, and Iris took his hand in one of hers and reached up and placed the other against the side of his face, fingers in his hair. Joe had a hand on his shoulder, mouth a tight frown.

"It's OK, Barr," he said, "It's alright."

It was another ten minutes before the dentist actually arrived. That probably had more to do with him trying to give Barry time to relax then any delay, because Iris saw him peeking into the room a couple of times. Barry wasn't crying anymore at that point. He was trembling, but the laughing gas was kicking back in again and he was scared but he was also exhausted and his mind hazy and Iris was there holding his hand and he gripped tightly.

"Hi, Barry," the dentist said when he came in.

Barry's eyes snapped open, over to him. His breathing noticeably elevated at the sight.

"Just going to take care of a quick cavity today," the dentist said, his voice smooth and very gentle. He approached slowly, taking a seat next to Barry. He put one hand on Barry's arm, and only touched him once he made sure Barry wasn't going to flinch away from him. "Joe told me that you were afraid of having the nerve touched," he said calmly, "and I just want to make sure you know that that is _not_ going to happen. You won't feel any pain once we start, OK?"

Barry trembled, didn't really respond, but the dentist seemed to have been expecting that.

"This really is a very simple cavity," he said, "and you are going to be just fine. I know it can be really scary, especially after having the hygienist touch that nerve. But you won't feel any pain, and it will be over really fast.

"That being said," the dentist continued, giving Barry a sympathetic smile, "you are going to need some Novocain. I promise, just one pinch then it'll be done. Could you open your mouth for me so I can put the topical on? It's going to numb the area so the Novocain shot will be nothing more than a little poke."

Barry shook his head, shot a look over at Joe.

"Open your mouth, Barry," Joe said, "he's just putting on the topical."

"Just a little sticky stuff," the dentist said, smiling again.

Barry closed his eyes and opened his mouth. A moment later he felt the topical. He closed his mouth again and turned his face to the side, towards Joe and Iris, into Iris's hand, biting back another sob.

"You're doing great," Iris said, and Barry knew that was a lie but it felt nice to hear her say it anyway.

"OK, Barry," the dentist said a couple minutes later, "it's time for that poke now. Just a little one though, and then it'll be done."

Barry shook his head, turned on his side so he was lying more on his shoulder then his back.

"Barr, we're gonna need you to lie back and open your mouth again," Iris said, "I know you can do it."

But he was _scared_. They didn't get it. Tears welled back in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut tighter. He was so, so scared, a blind, nameless fear, and it was unrelenting, encompassing. His body had slowed down due to the nitrous but in his head the fear was still just as large. He was terrified and they didn't get it, they wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't let him leave. He refused to move back for the dentist to get at his mouth.

"Barr, you need to lie back now," Joe said, "it's OK. You just squeeze Iris's hand and it'll be over in a moment."

"Barry," the dentist said, "I know this part it's fun. I'm going to be really gentle, OK? Just one poke. It only hurts for a second. I know doctors always say that, but it's true with Novocain. It'll numb it right up, so it really will only be a second."

Joe pushed on his arm, and Barry gave in and there were tears running down his face but he lay back down flat.

"Alright, that's great, that's a good job," the dentist said, "now if you could just open your mouth for me, Barry. I'll be really quick, I promise."

"You can do it," Iris said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Barry let out a whine deep in his throat, something like a whimper, but he clenched both his hands, muscles in his arms all tightening up, and he opened his mouth.

The dentist didn't say anything, and then Barry felt a sharp prick in his mouth. He cried out, panic ripping through him, but then it was gone just as quick.

"That was really good, Barry, you did really well. It's all done. You can close your mouth now – we'll give you a short break, alright? That was the hardest part and it's all done now."

"I wanna go home," Barry said, and he turned back towards Iris and Joe, knew he couldn't go home even as he said it, knew that he had gotten too far already, that they definitely wouldn't let him go back now. His stomach was turning and the dentist kept repeating that the hardest part was over now but he didn't get it, they didn't get it, didn't get that Barry wasn't just afraid of the shot, he was afraid of the whole thing. That it didn't matter if nothing else hurt, he was still terrified, the pain just made it worse.

For five minutes he held onto Iris's hand weakly and breathed shallowly in the nitrous gas that made his head fuzzy and the whole thing just within the line of tolerable that he didn't jump off the bed and run for it. And then the dentist came back and Barry knew what was coming next.

"Please don't," he said, before anyone said anything to him.

"Barry," Joe said, "it's all downhill from here. Nice and easy."

Barry closed his eyes, a tear sneaking out, and he was thinking, no, no, it's _not_.

It wasn't going to be better, it wasn't going to be OK, it wasn't going to be easier or alright or fine. It was going to hurt and he was miserable and he was _scared_. He was so scared and they wouldn't stop. They didn't understand, didn't understand the amount of fear he was in, that this was all wrong, all unsafe, all awful and he couldn't do anything but lie there and take it. He was helpless. They wouldn't let him leave, wouldn't let him get up and get out of there. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to get as far away from that dentist and that chair as possible.

"I'll get it done as quick as I can," the dentist said.

Barry closed his eyes and tried not to sob.

**Yeah, so you should review because it makes me happy and also because it motivates me to write more sooner :) Hope you enjoyed **


	7. Seventeen - Sedation

**Heyyy I'm back. Anyway, here you go :)**

"Please stop," Barry said, eyes squeezed shut, hiccupping sobs, shaking all over. "Please. I wanna stop. I can't do this. Please, please let me go home, I don't care, please."

"It's OK, Barry, everything's OK," Iris said. Her stomach was churning. She had never seen him this bad, had thought that once they got the Novocain done he would at least settle down a little bit. He was on valium and nitrous, but it only seemed to confuse him, make him a little more disoriented, his speech more jumbled, but then again the assistant kept trying to adjust the mask on his face because Barry kept dislodging it, so maybe the nitrous wasn't all getting into his systems.

"You're already halfway done, Barr," Joe said, hand on his shoulder trying to calm him down. It just made Barry release another sob.

It was taking forever. It was a simple cavity, not even a big one. Iris glanced at the clock again. Every two minutes Barry raised his hand, and the dentist would stop and give him a break and Barry would cry and beg them to let him go home. It was agonizing just to _watch_, and Iris was starting to think maybe they should just do it, just let him go home and bring him back in another day and have them _sedate_ him because this was awful.

"You said it wouldn't _be_ like this."

Iris closed her eyes.

"I know Barr, you're doing great," Joe said, rubbing his shoulder, wiping another tear off his face.

"You s-said it b-be _fine_."

Joe's face was pained, but his voice was soft and gentle. "I know, Barr. It's gonna be OK. Just a little longer now. We're gonna let them start again, OK?"

"_No_." There was another sob, and Barry's grip on her hand tightened drastically. The dentist came forward. Barry was coaxed into opening his mouth. The dentist warned him he was starting the drill, but the sound of it still made him flinch, whole body tensing up. He worked for another two minutes, and then Barry's hand was up and he stopped and Joe sighed.

"Barry, do you think you could go a couple more minutes?"

He shook his head frantically.

"How about we go a couple more minutes, and then you can have a longer break. Sit up for a minute. Have a sip of water."

He shook his head again, a full body shudder racking up his frame.

Joe hesitated. "I think we're gonna let them go just for a couple more minutes, Barry."

Barry's breathing rapidly escalated, and his eyes opened, wide and horrified.

"No," he said, hyperventilating. "No, y-you – I – I get a break – i-if I raise – I'm – I get a break, I'm supposed t-to get a break, that's – that's how it works, _you have to let me have a break_."

"Shh, OK, OK, Barr," Joe said, backtracking at the sudden, explosive reaction. "OK, you can have a break. It's OK. Just relax." He let him sit for a minute, calm down before continuing. "It's just that this is taking a really long time, Barr, and I know you want it over with. If you can go a bit longer without the breaks it'll be over sooner."

"I wanna go home," Barry whimpered. "I don't wanna finish. Please – _please_, Joe."

Joe sighed. "You're already too far in, Barry, we have to finish it up today."

And so the cycle continued. Joe and the dentist coaxed him into starting again. Barry raised his hand. They stopped. And Joe couldn't find it in him to make Barry continue in longer stretches, because he was beginning to think that Barry's control over when he got breaks was the only thing keeping him in the chair and not bolting the first chance he got. As it was, he was clearly terrified, and it was awful to watch.

It took an inordinate amount of time, but they finally finished. When the dentist stopped and told them it was done, Barry just blinked and trembled, and then he moved the chair up for him, removed the nitrous, and Barry started crying harder, covering his face. Iris froze, but Joe just smoothed a hand over his back.

"It's alright. It's all done now," he said, and Iris realized Barry was crying because he was _relieved_, because it was finally over.

Barry got up as soon as the chair was vertical again, and promptly almost fell down, his vision blurring and a wave of dizziness coming over him. They made him sit down in the chair Iris had been in, and then got him to drink some water. He kept insisting he was fine, that he wanted to go back to the car, that he just wanted to leave, but he drank the water and waited a couple minutes until Joe said they could go now.

"Iris," Joe said, speaking softly, and Iris stopped. Barry was already at the door, still shaking. His movements were frantic. He just wanted to get out of there. "I'm going to talk to the dentist for a minute," he said, "can you take Barry out to the car?"

She nodded, and he handed her the keys. Barry looked back, pausing when he realized no one was following him. She smiled, hoping it looked reassuring, and took his hand. They walked out to the car, and she slid in next to him. She didn't say anything, just sat in the middle seat so she was closer, still holding his hand. He trembled, jittery, and just looked awful.

Joe came out about fifteen minutes later. He said a few things when he got there, told Barry he did a great job, and they'd go home now, that everything was alright, and did he want anything? But Barry didn't really respond.

When they stopped at a CVS Iris gave him a questioning look. "Just picking something up," he said, and went inside. He came out in a few minutes with a small pharmacy bag. When they got home, Barry moved in a daze. He wouldn't let go of Iris's hand. She led him to the couch, where they sat down. He was still shaking.

Joe went into the kitchen, and when he came back he was holding a glass of water and a small pill. He held it out to Barry.

"I had the dentist write you another prescription," he said gently, "this one's a little stronger then what you took this morning. It should help you relax, let you sleep some, OK?"

Barry just nodded, taking it rather fast. It worried Joe. He had to be coaxed into taking it that morning, was skeptical of the whole thing the day before.

But Barry was desperate for anything that would make it stop. He felt awful. He thought he was going to throw up, or maybe pass out. He was shaky and terrified and he just wanted it to stop. He curled up on the couch, still holding Iris's hand.

"Do you want to go up to bed, Barry?" Iris asked.

Barry nodded, and she led him upstairs, and he slumped against the headboard as she got onto the bed next to him.

"I don't want to ever do that again," he said slowly. Iris looked over at him. He was still shaking, and there were tears welling up in his eyes again.

"It's OK," she said, but he was already shaking his head.

"I have _another_," he said, his voice cracking, "I have another cavity, Iris." And then he started crying.

"Hey, it's alright," she said, feeling helpless. "It's OK, Barry. It's going to be OK."

He shook his head. "I can't do that again. Oh, God, please don't make me do th-that again, I can't go through that again, Iris, I c-can't."

"We'll figure something out," she said, "we'll make them give you better medicine. Or maybe they can sedate you. We'll figure it out, Barry, OK?"  
"No, I can't do that again. I won't do that again, I don't care. I don't c-care, I'd rather they just pull it out."

"Shh, Barry," she said, and he had his head against her shoulder now, and she was rubbing his arm, still holding his hand where he was gripping tightly.

He was still crying when Joe came up, two mugs of tea in his hands. His face fell as soon as he saw Barry. His gaze met Iris's, and he felt his stomach sink.

"Hey, Barr," he said, setting the mugs down next to him.

"Please don't make me do that again," Barry said, his voice thin, looking up at him, eyes red and tear stains across his face. "I can't do that again, please, I can't, that was a-awful, I don't want to _ever_ do that a-again."

"Easy, Barr," Joe said, slipping a hand around his back, rubbing circles. "It's OK, now."

But Barry kept shaking his head, kept crying until the Valium set in and made his heartrate slow to an even beat, cast a fuzzy layer over everything. He fell asleep shortly after, the exhaustion taking over until he was dead asleep.

F

F

F

F

They didn't talk about it. Joe gave Barry another pill the next morning, and then again before he went to sleep. The next day he seemed to be doing better, and Joe didn't want him relying on the pills, and Barry didn't ask for them, so he didn't give him any. He still seemed shaky – timid and much more hesitant than usual. He was still anxious. But he went back to school, and his mind was taken away from it, and he seemed to get back to normal.

A week later Joe brought it up over dinner.

"You're next appointment for that second cavity is Friday, Barry," he said, "and I wanted to talk to you about your options, and let you pick what sounds best."

Barry went still. Iris looked between her father and Barry, trying to hide her own nervousness.

"I don't want to go," Barry said. His voice was thin. He put down his fork, and his hand was starting to shake.

"I know you don't, son," Joe said, "and we don't want it to be so hard for you – I talked to the dentist and we're going to make sure it won't be so difficult for you this time."

Barry looked down at his plate. "How?"

Joe launched into his speech, the list of options he had spoken with the dentist about. "Well," he said, "this one is a lot smaller – the cavity – the dentist said it was a lot smaller and should be much easier and take less time, so you could always just have the laughing gas –"

"No," Barry said. He hugged his arms around himself. "No, I – I c-can't, not with – not with just that, I – I –"

"Hey, that's OK," Joe said, "I'm just giving you your options, OK, Barry? We can do something more. Whatever is going to make you most comfortable."

Barry frowned, his bottom lip quivering, tears pricking at his eyes. He felt like he was going to cry and that made him feel childish and stupid, crying just from talking about it. But he was so scared – the idea of it – he just couldn't, he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to get it done, wanted to forget that something like a dentist even existed.

"They can give you the valium," Joe said, "the pills. You can take a bit higher dose – a little more than what I gave you right after it was done this last time –"

"That's not enough," Barry said. He shivered, wanted to run. "It's not eno-enough, Joe, I – it's not going to be enough."

He could feel his expression crumbling, face screwing up.

"Hey," Joe said, and Barry looked up. He reached across to put a hand on his arm. "It's OK, Barry. I'm just listing the options. If you don't think that'll be enough we'll pick something else, OK? We're not going to let you go through that kind of fear again, OK? We're going to make sure this one is easier."

Barry nodded, trembling, and sniffed. He wiped away the tears gathering in his eyes before it could fall.

"I think," Joe said, "what might be best is sedation."

"Sedation?" Barry said. He looked up suddenly.

Joe nodded. "They do a conscious sedation – it'll mean an IV, but they can give you laughing gas or the valium in a pill for that part. But afterwards you should be totally calm – might not even remember it afterwards. It's not a full sedation because it won't knock you out, but you might still fall asleep. You should be totally calm for it."

"I wouldn't remember?" he asked.

Joe shook his head. "Probably not. But you shouldn't be afraid at all once they give you the medication through the IV."

Joe waited. Iris watched Barry. Joe took a deep breath.

"So, what do you think, Barry?" he asked, "There'd be an IV, and I know you don't like needles, but after that it would be like it's all over."

"OK," Barry said.

"OK?" Joe said, his eyebrows raising. He was anticipating more of a fight, more arguing, pleading.

"OK."

F

F

F

F

F

They gave him valium for the night before and morning of. It was a low dose, something to help him sleep and get him through the insertion of the IV. He was still nervous, and he held Iris's hand tightly as they drove to the dentist office. They were halfway there when Barry spoke suddenly.

"You promise I'll be calm, right? Once the IV is in they'll give me the medication right away, right – like – _r-right_ away – So I – I just – I just have to get through the IV, right? Once they put in the IV it'll be OK? I'll be calm? Promise? It'll – it'll b-be OK then?"

Joe startled, and looked back in the mirror at him. "Yes," he said. "Once the IV is in, they'll give you the sedative, and you'll be nice and calm after that."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Barry," Joe said, "it won't be like last time. You probably won't even remember it once it's over. You're going to be all calm, might even fall asleep during it."

"If I'm not, will you take me home?" he said, rambling now, it all coming out too fast. "I-if I have a reaction, or I'm – I'm more resistant to it, or something, if it doesn't – if it's not enough and I'm still – if I panic – if I – like last time, when I'm – I – I can't do that a-again Joe, I won't, I'll run, you can't – I – will you –"

"Barry," Joe said, "if you panic – if for some reason it doesn't work – and that shouldn't happen – it really, really shouldn't Barry, I don't even know how it wouldn't work – but if it does for some reason, then I will take you home. We won't go through with it today. I promise."

Barry slumped down in the seat, letting out a long breath. "You promise?"

"I promise. If you're not completely calm after they give you the sedative, we will go home instead."

"OK," he said, and his voice was quiet.

F

F

F

F

F

Barry did fairly well. That is, up until his name was called, and they walked down the hall and into the room. He took one look at the chair, and his entire body tensed up, and he froze.

"N-no," he said, and he backed up into Joe, turned, shook his head frantically. "I – n-not in the chair – please, I can't – not – please."

"Shh," Joe said, taking his shoulder's in his hands, rubbing gently, "just relax, Barry. It's going to be fine. Going to be completely calm, remember?" Barry was shaking already, and Joe turned to the assistant that had shown them into the room. "Can he have the IV put in while he sits over there?" He pointed to the side chair, one in the corner of the small room for family or assistants to sit on.

"Of course," she said, and Joe walked Barry over to that one and had him sit down.

The anesthesiologist came in, and had Joe fill out some information while Iris wheeled a second chair over and sat next to Barry, holding his hand. When Joe was finished the anesthesiologist pulled up a third chair and sat a little in front of Barry and to the side.

"Hi, Barry," he said, "I'm Dr. Jones. I'm going to put in your IV today and take care of the sedation. Joe tells me you get anxious at the dentist, so we're just going to give you some light sedation today, and that should take care of everything. You probably won't remember the procedure once it's over, and you're going to feel tired for a few hours afterwards, so no driving or anything, OK?"

Barry nodded.

"OK," he said, and he smiled gently at him, "can I see your arm?"

Barry trembled, and swallowed hard and lifted his arm, the one that Iris didn't have. Dr. Jones looked at it carefully.

"You have some good veins here," he said, "it should be very easy to get the IV in – hopefully just one try. I don't want to promise, but it looks like it should be nice and easy for me to get it in. Do you have a preference on where?"

Barry blinked at him. "W-where?"

"I can put it here," he tapped the crook of Barry's arm, "or the back of your hand here, or your wrist, or here," and he tapped a vein on the side of Barry's wrist.

"Um," Barry said, and swallowed. "Which – which looks easiest? To – to get on the first try?"

He looked at Barry's veins again. "Probably your arm or your hand here," he said.

"Um – I'll – my hand, then."

"OK," he said. "do you want to stay here while I do it, or get in the chair. If you stay here, I'm going to have to just give you a little bit of sedation before you get the rest, because I can't give it all to you while you're sitting up like this."

Barry started trembling a little harder as his eyes flicked over to the chair. "H-here," he said.

"OK," Dr. Jones said, "that's fine. We'll get you all set up here and then move. Can you do me a favor now and look over at your friend for me?"

Barry started breathing a little faster, but looked over at Iris. Joe took a step closer, coming up behind her and putting a hand on Barry's shoulder. Dr. Jones wrapped a tourniquet around Barry's upper arm and Barry started to shake.

"It's OK," Iris said, "it's just like a shot, at the doctor's. I know it doesn't feel good, but afterwards you'll be all done, all set. It's OK, Barry."

Barry nodded, the movement jerky.

"Just look at Iris," Joe said.

"OK, Barry," Dr. Jones said, "You're doing great. Big pinch now, OK?"

He waited for Barry to nod, and then inserted the IV. Barry tensed, squeezing his eyes shut, breath stuttering to a halt for a second.

"Breathe, Barry," Joe said, "it's OK. Breathe, son."

"We're all set," Dr. Jones said. "It's in. You're all set, Barry."

Barry still shook, breath stuttering in again, and his eyes looked wild. "I'm giving you a little bit of that sedative now, and then we're going to move and I'll give you the rest." He unwrapped the tourniquet, and administered a portion of the sedative. The effect was immediate. Barry's whole body relaxed, and his breathing slowed within a few seconds.

"There we go, let's get you up to the chair now."

Barry clung to Iris's hand, and he still shied away from the chair, but they managed to coax him into it. Once in place, Dr. Jones put a couple monitors on him, and then administered the rest of the dose.

Barry's breathing slowed, he stilled, and his eyes went glassy. He relaxed into the chair.

"How do you feel, Barr?" Iris asked. Barry's eyes moved over to her, but he didn't say anything at first.

He closed his eyes then. "Fuzzy," he mumbled, "ever'ing 's fuzz'."

F

F

F

F

F

The anesthesiologist stayed to monitor his oxygen levels and pulse to make sure he didn't go too far under, but there were no problems. The dentist came in and took over. Barry hardly said a word the whole time, eyes closed more often than not, and only semi-responsive.

They finished quickly. The whole thing really didn't take much longer than a half hour. The anesthesiologist removed the IV before Barry was really back with them, so when he started to come around more everything was already done and the dentist had already left.

They got out of there before the medication fully wore off. Barry was shaky on his feet, had to be helped out, and he wasn't saying much, but he didn't appear anxious. If anything he just looked really tired. When they got back he almost immediately crashed on the couch.

When Barry woke up, the first thing he noticed was the warm presence next to him, pressed against his side. Well, he was leaning against it more like.

He opened his eyes to find Iris sitting next to him, reading a book. He shifted and stretched out his legs some more, but then closed his eyes again.

"You awake?" Iris asked, and her hand came to rest on Barry's head, lightly, in his hair. He pressed his face into the pillow which was placed between his head and her leg. She stroked his hair, and oh, Barry liked that. He really liked that. It was the kind of comforting touch he would be too embarrassed to ask for, was even a little embarrassed now that she was doing it, but it felt good and he didn't have the energy to fight that.

He hummed instead, a small acknowledgement that he had heard her. She kept playing with his hair and Barry dozed for a little longer. His leg started to cramp though, and he opened his eyes again a while later and shifted on the couch. He really didn't fit, but he didn't want to move either.

"How do you feel?" Iris asked, when it became apparent from Barry repositioning himself that he was truly awake this time.

"Tired," he said.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Barry remembered taking the medication that morning. He remembered going there, being scared – remembered the insertion of the IV, and then feeling the first bit of the drug, the way his body had just calmed of its own accord. He remembered getting into the chair, getting the pulse oximeter set up, and then the doctor said he was going to give him the rest of it.

And then it was blank. It was completely blank. The next thing he remembered was Joe asking him how he felt right before leaving the office.

"No," he said. "I… after I got in the chair… I don't remember anything after that."

Iris smiled, but Barry's stomach flipped. He wasn't sure how he felt about not being able to remember a thing. But he'd do anything to avoid the all-consuming panic that he had experienced the visit before this one, so he'd take it.

"Do you remember coming back here?"

Barry nodded. He remembered getting in the car and then waking up at the house and lying down on the couch as soon as he got in.

"You did fine," Iris said, "you didn't really say much once they sedated you. You were relaxed the whole time. I don't know if you were asleep at all, but you kept your eyes closed for most of it."

Barry nodded.

"Do you feel OK now? Better? It's all done now. You don't need to go back until your next cleaning."

Barry nodded again. "I feel OK," he said, and it struck him as the first time he had ever really come back from a dentist appointment and felt alright. "I'm OK," he said again, and Iris smiled at him.

**If you comment it will totally make my day and also inspire me to write more :))) Thanks for reading!**


End file.
